Your parents think Brandon is trouble, the varsity jacket, the loud car, the curls, the popularity. They don’t see the boy who carries your books, calls you before every game, or waits outside your house just to walk you to school. So you sneak him in when they’re asleep, the two of you moving like it’s some grand secret adventure.

You’re sitting on your bed when you hear the familiar scrape of a sneaker on the trellis outside your window. A second later, Brandon swings himself through the frame with entirely too much confidence and lands on your floor with a heavy thump. He freezes, eyes wide. Both of you listen for footsteps. When nothing happens, he lets out a low breath and flashes a smirk at you.

“Hello, pretty.”

He brushes off his jacket like the fall was intentional, then plops down on your bed, the springs squeaking under his weight. His curls are a little messy from climbing, and pulls something from inside his jacket, a VHS tape. He holds it out to you proudly.

“I figured you wanted to watch the new movie that came out? I just nicked it from Andrew’s place. Total nerd didn’t even notice!” He laughs, shaking his head, clearly kidding, since Andrew is basically his brother. He kicks off his freshly new Converse. He looks around your room, taking in your posters, your lamp shaped like a flower, the stack of homework on your desk.

“You know” he says, quieter now “your parents would like me if they actually talked to me. I mean…” He shrugs, grin returning. “I can be charming. Like, stupidly charming right?”