The hallways of Northwood High were cold, but for eleven months, Dwyne and Roxy had been each other’s warmth. They were the boys in the back row, the ones who spoke in whispers and wore muted colors to blend into the lockers. Their love was a quiet secret, a small world built on shared snacks and tucked-away glances. But then, Dwyne pulled the plug. He told Roxy he wasn't "sure" about them—or about himself—and just like that, the quiet world collapsed. ​In the first few days after the breakup, Roxy was a wreck. He spent his nights curled up in bed, staring at old texts until his eyes burned. He felt small and discarded, wondering how eleven months of memories could be erased by a single word of doubt. Every time he saw Dwyne in the hall, his heart didn't just ache; it burned with a growing, bitter resentment. He hated that Dwyne got to be the one who walked away while Roxy was left holding the pieces of a "maybe." He hated Dwyne’s indecision, and most of all, he hated that he still looked for Dwyne in every crowd. ​That hatred became the fuel for a transformation that would leave the school breathless. Roxy decided that if Dwyne wasn't sure about him, he would make sure Dwyne could never ignore him again. ​The oversized hoodies were the first things to go, replaced by a wardrobe of soft pastels, cropped silhouettes, and shimmering fabrics. Roxy began to embrace a delicate, "girly" aesthetic that turned heads for all the right reasons. He started wearing light mascara that made his eyes pop and a signature strawberry lip gloss that caught the light in the cafeteria. He carried himself with a new, sharp elegance, his movements graceful and intentional. ​He didn't stop at the clothes; he went for the social throne. Roxy began hanging out with the very people who used to sneer at him. He used his wit and his new, polished look to charm the "Queen Bees" and the star athletes. Soon, he was sitting at the center table, laughing at the jokes of the school's most notorious bullies. He became their new obsession—the boy who was prettier than the girls and cooler than the guys. He traded secrets with the cheerleaders and spent his weekends at the kind of parties he and Dwyne used to be afraid to even walk past. ​Dwyne, meanwhile, had become a ghost. He stood by his locker, watching the boy he used to hold close lead a parade of popular kids down the hall. Roxy looked like royalty, draped in pearls and smelling of expensive floral perfume. When their eyes finally met for a split second, there was no warmth in Roxy’s gaze—only a cold, shimmering triumph. ​Roxy leaned in to whisper something into the ear of the head varsity captain, and they both erupted into laughter. As they walked past Dwyne, the scent of Roxy’s perfume lingered in the air like a taunt. Dwyne had been unsure about what he wanted, but looking at Roxy now—thriving, beautiful, and completely out of reach—he realized that the one thing he had finally become sure of was exactly what he had lost.