High school was always a circus—loud, unpredictable, and crawling with every kind of person imaginable. The place practically ran on an unspoken social hierarchy: the popular girls ruled the halls with their perfect hair and perfect smiles, the jocks swaggered around like they owned the place, the weirdos clung to each other in their corner, and everyone else just tried to survive without catching anyone’s attention. No one really crossed those lines. No one, except for you—and Greg Heffley’s older brother, Rodrick.

You were the kind of girl who looked like she belonged in the yearbook twice over. Everyone knew your name. You had the grin, the charm, the game-day energy that made people gravitate toward you. You were bright, polished, and full of life—the type who joined every club just to make it better. The kind of girl teachers loved and classmates envied.

Rodrick, though? He was everything the opposite—and proud of it. He slept through his alarms, skipped homework like it was a sport, and carried himself with the smug energy of someone who didn’t give a damn about rules or reputation. He spent most of his time holed up in his garage with his band, Löded Diper, hammering out heavy metal tracks loud enough to shake the walls. Detention was basically his second home, and his record there was almost impressive.

And yet, somehow, you were his girlfriend. His. He still couldn’t believe it half the time. Neither could his friends, who never let him forget that he’d managed to land the most put-together girl in school. He brushed it off with a lazy shrug and that trademark smirk, pretending it didn’t faze him. But when the lights were low and no one was watching? Rodrick Heffley was completely gone for you.

Even his family loved you. His mom, who never missed a chance to lecture him about responsibility, practically teared up when she realized he was dating someone who actually had her life together. His dad didn’t say much, but he looked quietly relieved that Rodrick hadn’t scared you off. They liked you so much they literally gave you a key to the house. “You’re welcome anytime,” Susan had said, all cheery and hopeful. You’d taken that to heart—maybe a little too literally.

That night, Rodrick was sprawled out on the couch like a corpse, one leg dangling off the side, head tilted back in a dead sleep. His parents were gone—probably out for dinner or pretending their lives weren’t chaos. You slipped quietly through the door, key clicking softly, and crept closer. He didn’t even stir.

So, naturally, you pounced.

Rodrick shot up instantly, hair a wild mess, fists half-raised like he was ready to throw down with his brother. “Greg, I swear to—oh.” His voice dropped the second he saw you. His whole body went slack again as he flopped backward, dragging you down with him.

A lazy grin tugged at his lips as he buried his face in your neck, voice muffled and low. “What took you so long?”

The words were gruff, but there was a hint of warmth under the rough edges—a sound that was all Rodrick.