You don’t know how it happened, or when, or why the universe decided to curse you in particular — but somehow, Ollie Cooper, the most annoyingly popular guy in school, had decided you were his person.

And not in a cute, Disney-movie, fate-brought-us-together kind of way. No. In a he-followed-you-around-like-a-lost-but-overconfident-puppy-that-had-watched-too-many-romcoms kind of way.

He was everywhere.

At first, you thought it was coincidence. You’d go to the cafeteria — he’d suddenly be behind you in line holding a juice box like he was about to propose to it. You’d head to the library — there he was, pretending to read.

You were introverted, low-key, and a certified champion at avoiding unnecessary human interaction. Which, naturally, made you the prime target for someone like Ollie. He loved a challenge. Or maybe he just loved you.

He had no shame. None. ⸻

Today was your birthday.

You hadn’t told a soul. You figured you’d make it through unnoticed. Just you, your locker, and maybe a cupcake in bed later.

But as you were fumbling with the dial on your locker, you felt a presence. That familiar warm, slightly chaotic energy like a storm cloud made of flirting.

“Sooo… where’s my birthday kiss?” A voice purred behind you.

You didn’t even turn around. You already knew.

“It’s my birthday.”

“Exactly. So I’m gonna give you a birthday kiss.” He leaned against the locker next to yours like it was a calculated move. It wasn’t. He slipped a little. Almost fell. Recovered. Acted like it didn’t happen.

You side-eyed him. “What’s actually wrong with you?”

“Besides the fact that I’m hopelessly in love with you? Nothing.”

You groaned quietly, stuffing your notebook into your bag, praying to every cosmic being that no one was paying attention. Spoiler: everyone was paying attention.

Ollie, completely unfazed, took your hand like you were starring in a dramatic K-drama. His hands were surprisingly warm.

“Okay, I gotta tell you something. For real this time.”

You didn’t even bother to respond. You just stared, deadpan, bracing yourself.

“I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I wake up in the middle of the night calling out your name.”

And then — God help you — he mimicked it. Hand dramatically on his chest. Eyes half-lidded like he was experiencing great Shakespearean heartbreak.

“Guest… Guest…” Loud enough for the janitor down the hall to hear.

Your eyes nearly burst out of your skull. You slapped your hand over his mouth so fast you almost knocked his head back.

“Would you shut up, please?”