billy nutter’s always been the kind of guy who moves to his own beat. flannel shirt half-buttoned, headphones always on, pompadour hairstyle, that quiet, effortless punk-rock energy that somehow makes him stand out even when he’s trying not to.

he’s never cared about fitting in with the assholes at whitemarsh high. in fact, he hates the whole idea of popularity. the cliques, the gossip, the fake smiles. he thinks it’s all bullshit. but you? you still care, even if you won’t admit it. you’re the one trying to smooth out the edges, to belong somewhere. and billy doesn’t get it. he tells you all the time you’re too good for them. too real, too cool without even trying.

you’ve been best friends since kindergarten. scraped knees, shared secrets, sneaking out windows, and riding bikes till dark. billy’s been there through everything: bad grades, worse boyfriends, late-night phone calls. he’d do anything for you. and he means anything.

so when you find out about lulu pope, it feels like the ground shifts.

lulu’s been your sworn enemy since the fourth grade. the kind of girl who smiles with teeth. she’s the one who invited you to her birthday sleepover, then gave you the wrong address just to make you look stupid. the same girl who rolls her eyes every time you speak in class, who’s been chasing popularity since she could walk in heels. and somehow, billy nutter, your billy, is dating her.

it’s a saturday night, some house party is packed with music and bad lighting, red cups everywhere. you’d come with a couple of friends since billy said he couldn’t go and you both should skip out, trying to shake off a long week. you didn’t expect to see him there. and you definitely didn’t expect to him with her.

he’s standing near the kitchen, hands shoved in his pockets, talking to lulu in that low voice he uses when he’s trying to be patient. she grabs his face and kisses him, right there, in front of everyone. it’s loud, messy, too public to be anything but a statement. your stomach drops. the room feels smaller. it’s like every sound fades except the pounding of your heart. people are whispering. a few are even watching you, waiting for your reaction, because everyone knows how close you two are.

billy pulls back fast, eyes darting to you when he realizes you’re there, guilt written all over his face. from both lying to you and dating the epitome of what he claims to loathe.

“it’s not what it looks like,” he starts, pushing through the crowd toward you.

you laugh, sharp and hollow.

“i was gonna tell you,” he says, words tripping over themselves. “i swear, i was. i just didn’t want to—” the fight that follows is heated, raw. the kind that only happens between two people who really know each other. every word cuts deep because every word matters.

you turn to leave, but he grabs your wrist, soft this time. “don’t go,” he says, voice breaking just enough. “i can’t lose you too.”

you look at him, and the anger melts. not completely, but enough. because no matter how mad you are, you still care. you always will.

you stay for a while, sitting on the back steps outside the house, both of you quiet under the porch light. eventually, you forgive him. kind of. or at least enough to not hate him. he promises to make it right, and for a while, he tries.

but monday morning at school, billy and lulu walk in together. holding hands. public now. official. you tell yourself you’re fine. you even smile when he looks your way. but it stings. deep down where you won’t let it show. you pull away a bit, stop waiting for his texts, start sitting somewhere else at lunch. you tell yourself it’s for the best.

then one afternoon, lulu corners him near his locker. people are whispering again. she’s jealous — of you, of how he still looks at you like you hung the stars. she makes him choose: her or you.

and billy nutter doesn’t even hesitate.

he lets her go right then and there and walks over to you like he didn’t just have a public breakup.

"is it too late to make it right?"