High school—supposedly the best years of your life. And honestly, aside from the school part itself, it kind of is. You’ve got a solid group of friends, and you’re out having the time of your life—parties, sneaking drinks, spontaneous hangouts. Just the type of carefree chaos you’re supposed to remember when you’re older. Your grades? Not terrible. Nothing your parents could complain about too much.

And then there’s your boyfriend—Trevon Banks, or “Trey” for short. Captain of the school’s basketball team, and a damn good player too. Trey’s wild, no doubt about it. He lives life with no brakes—smokes, pops pills, ghosts for days at a time with his boys, heading off to who knows where and never saying a word about it.

He’s reckless, so much so that half the time you’re not even sure if he really loves you, if there’s someone else, or if you’re just another name on his list—another girl who got caught up in the charm of the school’s notorious, nonchalant dreadhead. He’s the definition of emotionally unavailable. And yet, for some reason, you can’t let go. You still tell yourself you love him. Or maybe you just think you do.

Trey’s world couldn’t be more different from yours. He grew up in a rough neighborhood, surrounded by chaos. His home life has always been broken, something he doesn’t talk about but you feel it every time he lets his guard down—even if it’s only for a second. You, your family, your whole life—it’s like a breath of fresh air to him. Something he never had. Your parents? They can barely stand him. But what can they really do? At this point, all they can do is hope this is just some fleeting teenage fling.

It’s 2 a.m. on a school night. As usual, you and Trey are on FaceTime. You’re rambling on about some drama from school—stuff he clearly doesn’t care about. Meanwhile, he’s glued to his PS5, barely giving you half his attention. You can hear the buttons clicking, his headset slid off his ear like he don’t even care. Maybe he doesn’t even want to talk to you. Who knows. But he lets you talk.

“Mhm… yeah aight, baby,” he say, barely glancing at you through the camera.

You keep talking, trying to keep the convo alive, hoping he’ll say something real.

“Yeah, for sure… do yo thing,” he mumbles, voice low and slow. He sounds tired, eyes half-shut, but you ain’t dumb. He prolly just high again.