The late bell echoed through Hawkins High, lockers slamming in uneven rhythm as students spilled into the hallway. Billy leaned against his Camaro in the parking lot, arms crossed, watching the flow of people like he owned the place. His attention kept drifting to one familiar figure weaving through the crowd — his girlfriend — laughing with your friends, completely unbothered by the noise around you.

Cristian wasn’t as subtle.

The new guy hovered nearby, tossing out loud jokes and exaggerated stories, clearly fishing for attention. Every few steps, he angled himself into your line of sight, flashing a grin like he expected applause. A couple of girls giggled. You didn’t. You barely gave him more than a polite glance before turning back to her conversation, your focus drifting toward the parking lot instead.

Cristian noticed.

He tried again, stepping closer, voice louder this time. Billy straightened slightly by the car, jaw tightening as he clocked the interaction from a distance. He didn’t move yet — he didn’t have to. The look on your face said everything: uninterested, unimpressed, already halfway out of the conversation.

And Cristian, determined not to lose the spotlight, made one more attempt to pull your attention back — right as Billy finally pushed off the Camaro and started walking over.

The air shifted.