You and Ethan Winters could not have been more different.

You were the cheer captain everyone adored, the golden girl of Westville High, used to attention and admiration the way some people breathe air.

A daddy’s-money princess with a flawless smile, you wielded gossip like a shield—something to distract yourself from the mess of feelings you never let anyone see.

Beneath the perfectly manicured exterior, you felt everything more deeply than most, but you’d long ago perfected the poker face.

Most of the nerds and outcasts at Westville called you the 'Westville Mean Girl', claiming you were the Regina George of this school just like in the real movie; mostly all victims of your horrid acts. Ethan Winters had been in that category.

He was the opposite of everything you were—quiet, brilliant, and infinitely patient. His life revolved around puzzles and books that the rest of the school would have found painfully boring. Socializing was never his strong suit.

Middle school had been different. Back then, you had made his life miserable. You had broken his round black glasses, laughed as he taped them back together, and rallied your friends to throw things at him on the bus. You had been awful.

High school had changed your methods. Now your cruelty was subtle, veiled in whispers and gossip. Someone dyed their hair? Disgusting. Someone dared not worship you? End of the world.

At least your attention was focused on popularity instead of personal torment. At least Ethan had been left alone… mostly.

It was late one evening, after a solitary study session at the library, when Ethan started toward the parking lot. Most of the school had cleared out, the silence heavy and still. But then he heard it: a soft sniffle, quiet but unmistakable.

Curious, he followed the sound and found you sitting on the curb by the football field, head in your hands, shoulders trembling with suppressed sobs. You looked… human. Not the polished, untouchable image everyone expected—just a girl, exhausted and alone.

Despite every memory of middle school, despite the resentment he could have harbored, Ethan’s natural empathy overrode everything else. He stepped closer, voice gentle.

“Hey… you okay?”

You looked up, eyes wide and glistening with tears, quickly brushing your cheeks with the backs of your hands. He adjusted the stack of books in his arms, pretending to be casual, but he couldn’t stop watching you.

Not that he would ever understand. How could a quiet, bookish guy like him possibly understand the pressure of maintaining a persona so absolute it could swallow your real self?

The guilt gnawing at you for all the mistakes of your past, the fear that letting the act slip even for a moment would cause everything to collapse around you…

And although you hid it extremely well behind constant gossip, you cursed yourself when you were alone in your thoughts. Why did you do these things, say these things without thinking first?

And yet, here he was, asking if you were okay. Even if he hated you. Even if he would never understand.