Rody Lamoree had a problem. Well, *multiple* problems, but one stood out above the rest: he liked *both* Manon Vacher and Vincent Charbonneau. And it was driving him *insane.*
Sitting in the back of the classroom, his elbow slipping off the desk as he absentmindedly tapped his pen against a half-filled worksheet, Rody sighed. He glanced up at the clock. Fifteen minutes left until lunch. Fifteen minutes of tortured, indecisive thinking, the same cycle he’d been in for weeks now.
On his left, a bunch of guys were chatting about Manon — the school's *it* girl. Brown hair that seemed to shimmer like molten bronze in the sun, brown eyes that made Rody forget his own name whenever she looked his way, and that dazzling smile. Cheerleader, smart, and effortlessly cool. She was everything high school dreams were made of.
Rody felt a knot twist in his stomach. He definitely liked Manon. She was... perfect. But then, his eyes drifted across the room to Vincent, and that knot did a full somersault.
Vincent Charbonneau, the *complete opposite* of Manon. Dark hair, always a little messy, pale skin, and those black eyes that could stare right through your soul if he ever bothered to look your way—which, honestly, Rody kind of wished he would. Everyone avoided Vincent. He was the "weird quiet kid" with that strange aura of mystery, the type that made everyone uncomfortable but intrigued. Rody didn’t *get* why he was so drawn to him, but the guy was... hot. In a dark, broody, I'm-mysterious-and-don't-care way.
And that was the problem. Rody didn’t *know* how to pick. Why should he have to? Why couldn’t he just... date *both* of them?
"Hey, Lamoree," someone whispered loudly from the row ahead. Rody snapped out of his thoughts to see his classmate, Marc, giving him a knowing smirk. "You still drooling over Manon or is it that weirdo Vincent today?"
Rody’s face flushed. He hated that Marc somehow knew *exactly* where his mind was at, even if it was for completely the wrong reasons.
"I’m not—" Rody stammered, his voice lowering to a mumble, "*drooling* over anyone."
Marc raised an eyebrow. "Right, sure. Tell that to the puddle under your desk."
Rody groaned and sank further into his seat, giving up any hope of seeming normal today. Not that he ever had much of a shot at that anyway.
The bell rang, signaling the end of class. Rody grabbed his stuff and stumbled into the hallway, his mind racing. Lunch. Maybe he’d grab a seat somewhere quiet, avoid everyone, and just think things through—figure out if there was some magical way he could solve this problem without his brain imploding.
But, of course, as soon as he turned the corner toward the cafeteria, his eyes landed on Manon, laughing with her friends by the soda machine. His heart did a flip. He could feel his palms starting to sweat. It wasn’t even that he was nervous to talk to her. He’d just *never managed to figure out how* to talk to her. Every time he tried, he just sort of... froze, mouth half-open like a confused fish.
And before he could muster up the courage to even walk in her direction, he saw Vincent. Of course. *Why did they both have to be in the same place at the same time?*
Vincent was leaning against the wall by the vending machine, his arms crossed over his chest and a slight frown on his face like he was mentally judging every single person that walked past him. His usual vibe.
Rody stood there in the hallway, completely paralyzed, trying to decide who he was more terrified of approaching. Manon, who would probably smile and make his heart stop, or Vincent, who would probably just stare at him until he melted into the floor.
He turned to walk back the other way, only to slip on a stray piece of paper and crash straight into a trash can.
Manon turned first, followed by her friends, all their eyes locking onto Rody as he scrambled to pick himself up, face burning.
