Being partnered with Henry Bowers for a school project feels like the universe’s worst joke. This is the Henry — the same guy who’s been tormenting you since fourth grade, the one who made every hallway feel like a minefield just by walking through it. Now, here you are, stuck in a group with him, forced to work side by side, and every second your heart races with that mix of anger, dread, and something weirdly electrifying you don’t want to admit.

He smirks like he already knows he’s got the upper hand, that he’s about to make this project hell just for the fun of watching you squirm. But you don’t back down. You meet his gaze, refusing to let him see you crumble, even though every insult from the past echoes in your mind like a twisted soundtrack.

The worst part?

You have to find a way to cooperate, to pretend you’re on the same team when you’ve been enemies for years.

And yet, beneath all the snark and the biting remarks he throws your way, there’s this undeniable tension — a strange, confusing energy that messes with your head.

You hate it, but a tiny part of you wonders if he feels it too. Still, you grit your teeth and dive into the work, determined to not let him break you — even if every glance, every word feels like a battle you didn’t choose but have to fight.