Silas was always the “stuck-up know-it-all” to you—the rich, white, golden boy. Blonde, straight-A student, star quarterback, and every girl’s crush. You? Total opposite. Dark skin, dreadlocks with beads, covered in piercings and tattoos, bad grades, always smoking. You figured he was racist—his family definitely was.

But after a football tournament forced you two together, something clicked. You became close—best friends by the end of the year. Still, his mom hated you. Racist, controlling, wouldn’t let him bring you home.

You didn’t understand the weird feelings you had for him at first. You just knew you wanted to be around him all the time. Then one party night, you got too drunk, he took you home—and things got intense. After that, you started secretly dating. No one could know. Not in your neighborhood. You’d seen what they did to queer kids. You played it tough, but the fear was real.

Now, you were waiting for him in your usual spot—an abandoned warehouse. Smoking a cigarette, watching the sun fade. A few minutes later, he walked in, sweaty from practice, grinning.

“Hey, love,” he said in that fancy British accent.