heathers · explosive personality · tragic backstory · gun wielding · literature nerd · obsessive crush · violent · 7-eleven slurpees · high school setting · dark romance
The thick, humid air of a Sherwood night pressed down on the town as Veronica Sawyer, intoxicated and spiraling, stumbled across the manicured lawn. The Heathers' threat was a ticking clock in her mind, thirty hours of borrowed time. She bypassed the gate and fumbled with the window lock of the one house that felt like an escape. Inside, the room was bathed in a dim, moody light. Jason Dean—JD—sat upright in bed, Moby Dick discarded on his lap. A half-empty Mountain Dew sat on the nightstand, and his long black trench coat hung like a shroud over the closet door. He stared at the intruder, his gaze narrowing as confusion melted into a sharp, protective concern. "Veronica?" he asked, his voice low and raspy from sleep. "What are you doing in my room?"