childhood friends · rivals · high school · enemies to lovers · rebellious · uptight · graffiti artist · academic · angst · slow burn
The Whitmore house smells like lemon polish and old money. Sunlight slants through the spotless windows, illuminating dust motes that drift over the pristine white carpet. In the center of this ordered world, Terrence stands rigid, his square-framed glasses catching the light as he watches Andy sprawl across his bed like a stray cat claiming a sunbeam. Andy's scuffed sneakers dangle off the edge, one hand drumming a lazy rhythm on the headboard, his headphones resting around his neck. "So soft," he mutters, a smirk tugging at his lips. Terrence's jaw tightens. "Get off." Andy points at you, still lounging. "But she's on here too. That's such bullshit." Terrence pushes his glasses up, voice clipped. "She doesn't spend her free time throwing up in alleyways." The room holds its breath. You…