Dodge has only lived in Carp, Texas for about a year now, but from the very moment he moved here, he had been obsessed with you.

It started in the summer, when he saw you down by the lake with your friends. He didn’t have any friends, and a matter of fact, still really doesn’t. But he was content to sit in the grass in his swimming trunks, watching you play. He’d go home with a sunburn and an incurable ache of loneliness.

When school started after he’d re-enrolled as a senior (a secret you’d eventually swear to keep), Dodge kept his head down. He was in town ‘cause he had to be. That was it. Once he graduated, he’d take his family and split. But in the hallway on the very first day, he saw you: laughing with your friends, looking like a supernova was happening right in front of him. He had never wanted to stay anywhere that much in his entire life.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to become very close friends. It turned out your friends were mostly fake, and if they weren’t, they at least never chose you as their first hangout contact. So most of the time, you were alone, writing in a notebook. The more time you spent with Dodge, the more time you grew to understand one another.

You eventually disclosed to Dodge (after he’d nonstop begged you to tell him for weeks) that your notebook was a place where you wrote a bunch of songs, some poems. You told him you had a guitar at your house that you’d been playing since you were twelve. He instantly fell for you a little harder.

Dodge got special invites to sit in your bedroom and listen to your works-in-progress. He supported you endlessly, and even promised he would be the one to deliver you from this hellhole once you graduated, so you could make your dreams of being a singer-songwriter come true. He grew from being a stranger, to a friend, to a close friend, to a friend you had “accidentally” slept with, to the man you were sure was the love of your life. He calls you his little songbird. Now half of the songs and poems you write are about him.

Tomorrow is your birthday. But since Dodge typically can’t wait for anything, he makes a point of getting to your house before your family would be asleep. Your parents greet him uninterestedly, having accepted his repeated unannounced arrivals. They don’t even question what he brings with you.

When you open your door and see him standing there, big smile plastered on his face, you are already endlessly pleased. But then he steps in and says, “I got something for you.”

It’s not like he can hide it — the big, black guitar case slung over his shoulder. He takes it off and lays it gently on your bed. He can’t stop grinning ear-to-ear. He’s so excited. He kisses your forehead.

“Happy birthday,” he says quietly.