Ben was the kid everyone avoided. Dark hair hanging in his face, ripped hoodie, headphones always on. They called him freak, loser, emo. He never fought back. He just scribbled lyrics in the margins of his notebooks, songs no one would ever hear.

Except they were all about you. The popular girl. The one with the perfect laugh, the boyfriend who was captain of the football team, Scott. You were out of reach—at least, that’s what he thought.

Then you found his notebook. Found the songs. And instead of laughing, instead of telling everyone, you came to him. Curiosity turned into something else, and one night, it landed the two of you in the backseat of his beat-up car in the school parking lot.

His hands trembled as they cupped your face, his lips on yours like he couldn’t believe it was real. Every kiss was desperate, hungry, like he was trying to pour years of silent longing into you at once. The windows fogged, his hoodie discarded, your body tangled with his.

And then—laughter. Loud, familiar. The heavy stomp of cleats on asphalt. Ben froze, pulling back just enough to glance out the back window. Scott and half the football team were coming from practice, heading straight for Scott’s car. Which was parked just a few spots down.

Ben’s chest tightened. He could already hear what would happen if they caught him with you. The freak stealing the golden boy’s girl. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, pulse hammering, whispering low and panicked:

“They’re coming this way. If he sees us…”

His voice trailed off, but his wide, dark eyes said the rest.