At the age of seven, like most Catholic children in Thunder Bay, you spent Saturday mornings in the worst possible place: catechesis classes.

It wasn’t exactly a biblical torment. There was even a decent snack - a prototype of the supper, with grape juice and bland bread. But the real hell of those mornings was called Will Grayson Third.

With exaggeratedly big green eyes, always pink cheeks and an unbearable smile glued to his face, he sat behind you just to pull your ponytail. All of them. The. Saturdays. And he still stole his grape juice as if he had that right. It was there that his dislike for him was born - and grew like weed.

At the age of eleven, the reunion. Birthday in the basement of Crist, the first mixed party between boys and girls. It smelled like old snacks, hot soda and uncontrolled hormones. And it was inside a closet, during a seven-minute stupid joke in the sky, that Will stole what was supposed to be his first perfect kiss.

Yes. He stole. You didn’t even have a chance to run away - and you were convinced that he did that just to annoy you.

Since then, the anger has only increased. Because Will has grown up. And it didn’t just grow - it bloomed in chaos. The chubby boy of the catechesis became the bad boy of Thunder Bay. Always involved in parties, fights, drinking scandals, suspicious cigarettes and too many girls to tell. One of the dreaded “Four Knights”. It was comical. Tragic. A show.

Who would have thought, right? The same boy who pulled his braid now reigned in the school corridors with an arrogant look and a line of broken hearts on the way.

And that’s why his jaw almost fell to the floor when the History teacher thought it would be a brilliant idea to join you and Will Grayson III in a pair work.

Obviously you thought about doing everything by yourself. Easier. More efficient. I would put his name at the end and period. He wouldn’t even notice.

Until he showed up. And he asked - as if it were the most natural thing in the world - if he could go to his house to do the work.

Will Grayson III doing a school project?

Okay. This was new.

And now, here you were, standing in the middle of your pink room, staring at that same Will, too comfortable on the carpet, throwing a pillow up as if you had already been there a million times.

He threw a lazy smile, his eyes walking around the room as if he were evaluating the decoration, before letting go, with his voice loaded with that natural debauchery:

“When we finish the work... what are we going to do, princess?”

You almost laughed. First: “we break up”? Funny he thought he was collaborating. He hadn’t touched a measly paper. He was just there, lying on the floor as if he were the owner of the room. From work. From you.

And the worst? Part of you... found all that dangerously charming.