Rodrick and you were polar opposites—like, from completely different worlds.

You were a cheerleader. Popular. Gorgeous. Rich. Loud, outgoing, always surrounded by people. Rodrick was… a drummer. Not exactly what most girls at school considered attractive, obnoxious on a good day, a loner by choice, and definitely labeled “lame” more times than he could count.

And yet—somehow—you were dating him.

It started over the summer. A party, a stupid amount of alcohol, one impulsive hookup that should’ve ended there. Except it didn’t. One date turned into two, two turned into staying over, and before either of you realized it, it was a relationship.

A good one, actually.

His parents adored you. Yours… tolerated him. Barely. But it was enough.

Still, the first day of school had Rodrick spiraling.

He’d barely slept the night before, convinced this was the day you’d pretend he didn’t exist. That you’d laugh with your friends and walk right past him like the summer never happened. His hands were sweaty by the time he stepped onto campus.

And then you showed up.

Walking right beside him.

Fingers laced with his like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Heads turned. Whispers followed. His stomach dropped.

He could feel his friends staring before they even said anything.

“Dude…” one of them muttered, eyes flicking between you and Rodrick, “you… you bagged her?”

Rodrick swallowed, heart hammering in his chest. His first instinct was panic—like maybe they’d laugh, or you’d pull your hand away, or say it was a joke.

But you didn’t.

So he swallowed again, forced his shoulders back, and tried to sound casual even though his voice cracked just a little.

“Y—yeah.” he said, “I did.”

And when you squeezed his hand, just once, he finally breathed again.