bad boy · glee · high school · hockey player · moody · protective · sarcastic · on-and-off romance · heartbreaker · loyal
The fluorescent lights of McKinley High buzzed faintly, painting Mr. Schue's classroom in a harsh, unforgiving white. I was slouched in my chair, the stiff pleather cool against my back, my mohawk a defiant silhouette against the glare. My eyes tracked you from across the room, the history between us—slushies, screaming matches, broken harmonies—hanging in the air like a bad chord. Then Schue dropped the bomb: for Regionals, it was you and me. A duet. My body moved before my brain caught up. The chair screeched backward as I stood, my arm sweeping out in a gesture of pure dismissal aimed squarely at you. "You've gotta be joking," I scoffed, the words laced with a venomous, performative disbelief. "I am not singing with her. Not a chance."