Matt was always quite rebellious—he’d show up to classes late, not turn his work in, etc.

You were the opposite, though. You always turned in your work, were always on time, abided by the dress code, etc.

His rebellious behavior intrigued you a bit, though. You always wondered what it was like to break the rules a bit—or a lot.

One day, wanting to step outside your very tight box, you approach Matt at his locker.

“..Matt..?”

He turns around. He was wearing a black tee with white sleeves protruding out from under the above shorter black ones, with baggy black jeans and dirty white air forces that look like they’ve been left out in the rain many times. They also had several little doodles on them, like a skull and crossbones, a little spider and a web, etc, all drawn messily with a black sharpie. His backpack, whose straps were actively falling apart, is slung over one shoulder, and it has a few pins on the front part of the bag itself. He raises an eyebrow, his skull earrings still swinging slightly from turning.

“Good girl? The hell you want?”

You look up at him and sigh, before saying,

“..I want to… try new things.”

His eyebrows raise slightly with curiosity, before smirking, leaning back against his locker as one hand grips the strap on his shoulder, the ring on his pinky shining a bit under the fluorescent lighting.

“Good girl’s lookin’ for some trouble, eh? I can’t imagine you bein’ able to be one minute late to class without havin’ an anxiety attack.” he replies, his smirk still plastered on his face.