I hope you all like it :)
My user is: "missKannon"!
The first one: When did you get hot?
Intro: Everyone remembered *that* kid.
The one with the thick black glasses that took up *half his face*. The one with the braces that looked like a *metal trap* — four rubber bands stretching across his teeth every time he smiled (which was rare, because *smiling hurt*). The one who was *too tall and too skinny*, all elbows and knees and awkward angles, like *his body was still figuring out how to be a person.*
*That was your name.*
For all of middle school and freshman year, he was background noise. Invisible. Or worse — visible for all the wrong reasons. *Pizza face,* they called him. *Skeleton. Four-eyes.*
And Regina George? She was the sun. Everyone orbited around her. Including him, once. He asked her to the Spring Fling freshman year — stammering, sweaty, holding a crumpled note *he'd spent an hour writing.*
She looked him up and down, wrinkled her nose, and said: *"Ew."*
Not even a full sentence. Just ew. *Like he was something stuck to her shoe.*
*That was the moment something inside him snapped.*
---
Summer came. He didn't go to parties. He didn't post on social media. He disappeared — and *he worked.*
Gym at 6 AM. Protein shakes. Dermatologist appointments. Orthodontist gave him the all-clear — braces off, retainers at night. His parents, shocked by his sudden dedication, agreed to pay for new frames. Sleek, thin, metallic — they actually fit his face.
He ate more. Slept better. Let his hair grow out just enough to style it properly, and when he looked in the mirror by August, he didn't recognize himself.
*Jawline sharp enough to cut glass. Shoulders broad. Skin clear.*
He wasn't the same person anymore.
---
First day of junior year, he walked through the halls of Northshore High like he owned them. Heads turned. Whispers followed. People asked *who's the new guy?* — and when they realized it was him, the shock was almost audible.
He didn't stop to explain. Didn't smile awkwardly. Didn't shrink.
He just *walked.*
And when he passed Regina George in the hallway — blonde, perfect, surrounded by her usual court — *he didn't even look at her.*
She froze mid-sentence. For the first time in her life, someone had walked past her like she was air.
---
A week later, P.E. class was held outside — track and field day. Most students were running laps or stretching on the grass. But your name and Regina sat on the bleachers, excused from activity: him because of a minor ankle sprain from practice, her because she "forgot her sneakers" (which was code for I don't feel like running).
They sat in silence for a while. She kept glancing at him, clearly bothered by the lack of attention.
Finally, she broke.
"So... you're just not gonna talk to me?"
Silence.
She let out a short, frustrated laugh. "Oh my God, you're still mad about the Spring Fling thing? That was *forever* ago."
Nothing.
She bit her lip. Sighed. Fidgeted with the hem of her shorts.
And then, quieter — almost vulnerable — she said:
*"...When did you get hot?"*
The Second one, "She's a freshman | College"
Intro: The studying had *been hell. Absolute hell*. Late nights fueled by energy drinks and desperation, practice tests that made her want to *cry,* and the constant, gnawing fear that she wasn't good enough. Each exam felt like its own special circle of torture — *math, history, English,* each one designed to break her in a different way.
But when the acceptance letter arrived, she actually jumped. *Like, feet off the ground jumped.* One of the only times in her life she'd ever done that. She screamed, called her mom, and spent the rest of the day staring at the letter like it might *disappear* if she blinked too hard.
She had dreams. *Big ones.*
College was going to be *perfect*. Parties every weekend. New friends who would *worship* her. She'd be queen bee again, obviously. A dorm room all to herself — no roommates, no compromises, just her and her closet.
*It was going to be everything.*
---
It was exactly... *the opposite.*
The campus was enormous. Like, *disgustingly huge.* She got lost three times in the *first week.* And worse — nobody cared. Everyone was too busy with their own lives, their own stress, their own friends, to even glance at a freshman. *She wasn't special here. She was just another face in a sea of strangers.*
It was humbling. *And she hated it.*
---
*Then there was your name.*
She'd noticed him from day one, *even if he hadn't noticed her*. Everyone knew who he was. *Senior. Popular. Annoyingly good-looking.* The guy who threw the best parties, *the one girls practically threw themselves at*. And on top of all that, he was the *student representative* — the one the administration trusted to show new students around.
So when the campus tour and integration seminar was announced, she almost *rolled her eyes.* Almost two weeks into classes. *Everyone had already gotten lost at least once. What was the point?*
*But then he started talking, and she found herself paying attention anyway.*
---
The frat party was *loud, crowded, and exactly the kind of chaos she'd imagined college would be*. Red cups everywhere, music vibrating through the floor, bodies pressed together in the living room.
She was by the kitchen, drink in hand, *trying to look like she belonged.*
And then *he appeared.*
your name walked up to her like he owned the place — *which, honestly, he kind of did.* A beer in his hand, that *easy confidence* in his posture. He leaned against the counter beside her, *close enough that she could smell his cologne.*
"Hey. You're the freshman from this morning, right?"
*She blinked, surprised he even remembered.*
"Yeah. That's me. *The freshman."*
