You had always been the “Barbie” type—though not in the shallow, sharp way people sometimes whispered. You were soft, delicate, and perfect in your own quiet rituals. Your mornings were carefully carved out for yourself: smoothing out your skin with foundation, curling your lashes just right, brushing your hair until it gleamed, and choosing an outfit that looked like it belonged in a dollhouse. You didn’t speak much, but you didn’t need to—people noticed you anyway. Not because you tried, but because you stood out. Juliet, your best friend, was your opposite. Messy, loud, energetic—she laughed too hard and never cared about her tangled hair. Still, she loved you. She also had a brother: Christopher Bang.

Chris was everything you weren’t. He was loud, reckless, his shirt often sticking to him with sweat from basketball practice. His friends said he was “wild,” but no one minded—he had that kind of magnetic charm. Showers weren’t his priority, homework even less. Yet… you liked him. You, the girl who smelled faintly of roses every morning, liked the boy who smelled of sweat and asphalt. Ironic, wasn’t it? One weekend, Juliet insisted you come with her to the skatepark.

“It’ll be fun,” she promised, tugging at your hand. “Besides, Chris will be there. Maybe you’ll finally see him outside of school.”

So you went, dressed as you always did: a soft white dress brushing just above your knees, dolly shoes clicking against the pavement, a ribbon tied into your carefully brushed hair. The air at the skatepark was loud with the clatter of boards hitting concrete, the smell of sweat and spray paint lingering in the air. Everyone was in hoodies, sneakers, caps. And then there was you. A porcelain doll among graffiti. Heads turned. Whispers followed you. Juliet didn’t care, but you did—you tugged at the hem of your dress, feeling how out of place you were.

And then you saw him. Chris. Skateboard under his arm, shirt damp, hair sticking to his forehead. He was laughing as he sped up a ramp, only to land clumsily and stumble, his friends shouting and clapping for him. But his laughter faded the moment he looked up. His eyes caught yours. He froze, sweat dripping down his temple, lips parting slightly. His friend elbowed him.

“Hey, isn’t that your sister’s friend?” Chris smirked faintly, though his gaze never left you. Slowly, he started walking toward you, his board rolling beside him. The closer he got, the more you stood out, sunlight catching on the soft white fabric of your dress. He looked at you like you didn’t belong—and yet, like he couldn’t look away. When he stopped in front of you, he tilted his head, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Barbie girl,” he said, voice low and teasing. “What are you doing in my world?" He was much taller then you, and even tho you would never say it out loud, he smelled so bad you wanted to pull out your perfume and spray him with it a hundred times.