THIS IS NOT A CUTE STORY

This chapter contains explicit content.

Chapter One

Kira Crowley

I wake up feeling like absolute dog shit.

My head is pounding, my mouth tastes like I swallowed sand, and my eyes refuse to fully open, like the world itself is too much effort to deal with right now. Somewhere in the background, the radio is still playing. Some Billie Eilish song hums softly through the room, all airy vocals and quiet sadness, but I can’t make out a single word she’s saying or whispering, in her case. It just blends into this dull, foggy noise in my head.

I stare at the ceiling for a second, trying to piece together last night, but it’s just… blank. Completely gone. The only thing I vaguely remember is lying here, half-asleep, the radio still on, telling myself I’d turn it off in a minute.

Clearly, I didn’t.

I groan and turn my head, reaching blindly for my phone on the nightstand. The screen lights up way too bright, stabbing straight into my skull. I squint at it.

Six missed calls from Jade.

I blink.

Why would she call me six times?

I stare at the screen a little longer, waiting for it to make sense. It doesn’t. I let out a quiet breath and drop the phone back onto the bed.

It was probably nothing. A butt dial. Or she needed something stupid and figured it out herself. Yeah. That’s probably it.

I check the time again and immediately regret it.

I groan louder this time, dragging a hand down my face. I have to be at school in an hour.

An hour.

Great.

I don’t like school. I don’t think anyone actually likes school; some people just tolerate it better than others. It’s loud, it’s exhausting, and it feels like every second stretches just a little too long.

I force myself out of bed anyway, legs heavy, body protesting every movement. The floor is freezing against my feet as I stumble toward the door and make my way downstairs.

The smell hits me first.

Pancakes.

For a second, I just stand there at the bottom of the stairs, blinking, trying to process something that feels way too wholesome for how terrible I feel. Then I step into the kitchen.

My mom is at the stove, flipping pancakes like it’s just another normal morning. Like everything is normal.

“Morning,” I mumble, my voice barely there.

She doesn’t respond.

I pause, glancing at her, but she doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t acknowledge me. For a second, I wonder if I even said it out loud.

Whatever.

I sit down at the table, resting my head in my hand, staring blankly at nothing. Something feels off, but I can’t quite place it.

Then it clicks.

Jade isn’t here.

That’s weird.

She’s always here by now—usually already dressed, already annoyed at something, already rushing me to get ready faster. I glance around like she might just… appear.

Nothing.

“Where’s Jade?” I ask.

My mom answers without turning around. “I haven’t seen her. Maybe she’s still in her room?”

I frown. “No, she’s normally up by now.”

That uneasy feeling creeps back in, a little stronger this time.

“I’ll go check on her,” I say, pushing my chair back.

“Okay,” my mom replies.

I walk up the stairs.

The hallway feels quieter than usual. Too quiet.

I stop in front of Jade’s door and knock.

Nothing.

I wait a second, then knock again, a little louder this time.

Still nothing.

“Jade?” I call, leaning closer to the door. “Are you up yet? You have to drive me to school, remember?”

Silence.

I frown, my hand hovering over the doorknob for a second before I push it open.

“Dude, I swear if you’re still sleeping, I’ll kill you”

I stop.

The lights are on.

Weird.

“Jade?”

Her bed is empty.

Even weirder.

I step inside, glancing around like she might be hiding somewhere, ready to jump out and scare me. “Are you trying to jump scare me or something?” I mutter.

Nothing.

No movement. No sound.

I exhale slowly, rubbing the back of my neck.

She must’ve already left.

That’s… annoying.

I flip the light switch off out of habit and head back downstairs.

Guess I’m taking the bus.

By the time I get to the bus stop, the air is cold enough to bite.

It’s strangely quiet for a Monday morning. No groups of loud kids, no one blasting music from their phones, no one arguing about homework they didn’t do. Just… silence.

I sit down on the bench, immediately regretting it. It’s freezing.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath, shifting uncomfortably.

I pull out my phone again, checking for messages.

Nothing from Jade.

I stare at the screen for a second longer than necessary before locking it and shoving it back into my pocket.

The low rumble of the bus approaching breaks the silence. I stand up, slinging my bag over my shoulder, waiting for it to pull in.

That’s when I see movement out of the corner of my eye.

Someone running.

Fast.

one… two… THREE

BAM.

They slam straight into me, and I go down, hard.

“What the fuck!” I blurt out, more shocked than anything.

“Shit! I’m so, so, so sorry!” a voice says, panicked.

A hand grabs my arm and pulls me back up before I can even process what just happened.

I brush myself off, still slightly dazed, and look at the person who just absolutely wrecked me.

I expect someone older. Maybe someone stressed, late for work, mid-life crisis energy.

Instead

It’s a girl.

My age.

Same school uniform.

I stare at her face

For a second, my brain just… stops working.

She’s gorgeous

“Oh shit, hi wait, no, don’t apologise,” I stumble over my words, bending down quickly to grab my bag. “No, I should apologise,” she insists, looking genuinely guilty. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s fine, really,” I say, standing up again, trying very hard to act like I wasn’t just completely thrown off balance in every possible way.

“I’m Kira. Kira Crowley.”

“I’m Charlotte Charlotte Evans,” she says, offering a small smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah yeah, you too,” I reply, a little too quickly. “So… you go to Westbridge?” I gesture vaguely at her uniform.

“Yeah. I’m new.”

“Coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool,” I say, immediately regretting every life choice that led me to that sentence.

Great. Smooth. Really smooth.

“Hey, you two getting on or what?” the bus driver calls out, already lighting a cigarette like he’s got all the time in the world.

“Yeah,” Charlotte says, grabbing my arm and pulling me onto the bus with her.

I don’t even argue.

We sit down near the back. I pull out my earphones, more out of habit than anything, and put some music on.

A few seconds later, I feel a tap on my arm.

“What are you listening to?” Charlotte asks, leaning slightly closer.

“Radiohead,” I reply.

Her face lights up. “No way, I love Radiohead. I listen to them all the time.”

And just like that, the conversation flows.

Music, favorite songs, random artists, concerts we’ve never been to but desperately want to go to it just keeps going.

The whole bus ride passes in what feels like minutes.

And somewhere between laughing about terrible playlists and arguing over the best song, I realize something.

I’m sitting on a bus.

Talking to a girl.

A cute girl.

No scratch that.

A gorgeous, absolutely-fucking-unfair angel who was apparently sent straight

Or, you know.

Gay.

In my case.

From heaven.