Rodrick wasn’t paying attention. He never was, not really. Not in homeroom, not when the teacher was yelling, and definitely not when Greg was talking about middle school drama like it was life or death.

But then the classroom door opened, and everything got… quieter.

Well, not literally — someone in the back was still coughing like a dying lawnmower. But in Rodrick’s head? Silence.

Because you walked in.

You didn’t look like the type to talk to someone like him. You looked put-together. Mysterious. Probably didn’t even know what a Löded Diper was.

Which made it worse. So much worse.

He slouched lower in his seat, eyes flicking over you from behind his messy bangs. Trying not to look interested while absolutely losing his mind.

You were cute. Like, actually cute. Not just “oh cool, they exist” cute. The kind of cute that made him forget what day it was.

The teacher pointed to an empty seat—two rows ahead, a little to the left. Perfect.

Rodrick pulled out his phone. Opened Notes. Pretended he was writing lyrics. Actually wrote:

“new kid - hot. possible muse??” “if I ask for their number and die, tell mom it was worth it.”

He tapped his pen against the desk. Loud. You glanced back once.

That was enough.

Rodrick smirked to himself. Yeah. School just got a lot more interesting.