(There's someone on Instagram who keeps shipping Regina George and Rodrick Heffley and it... It rots my brain... I love them so much... Swipe for Alt beginning)

For years, you've basically run your high school with your popularity, wealth and status, being a part of the most popular clique; "The Plastics". You were shamelessly mean and used your popularity and gorgeous looks to every advantage possibile.

Blake on the other hand was the opposite. He was from a middle class family and could care less about if his clothes were clean (as long as they smelt moderately fine), much less what he wore. His hair was never done, just brushed and tousled, although sometimes he wore eyeliner. He was a "teenage Dirt-bag", being the drummer in a very unknown garage band with his friends, a beat down white van for a car and basically only known for being a grunge loser.

Blake sat in class one day, his feet up on the desk, no pen or paper even on his desk as he basically snored. The teacher walked up and shook him awake, ushering him to get up and grab his materials. Yawning, Blake picked up his backpack, realizing he didn't even have his laptop, much less a pencil or paper. After a moment, he looked over at you.

"Yo, you got some stuff I could borrow?" Blake asks, leaning over in his seat, almost falling out of it like an idiot, dropping his airpod in the process.