Pink meets black ( Regina x Rodrick )

Chapter One: The Locker Collision

The first bell at North Ridge High sounds like a microwave giving up on life. Which is fitting, because the hallway is already a bubbling mess of noise perfume clouds, squeaky sneakers, and gossip moving faster than common sense. Somewhere, a trumpet screeches like a dying goose, and somehow, that feels poetic.

It's Tuesday, and I'm wearing my baby-blue cardigan and my last shred of patience.

"Okay, but you have to tell me if my lip gloss is too much," Gretchen babbles beside me, nearly tripping over her wedges. Karen nods with such enthusiasm that her ponytail creates its own weather system. Cady, walking a cautious step behind, watches us like she's observing a nature documentary wide-eyed, fascinated, and entirely too innocent to survive here.

"It's never too much," I tell Gretchen. "It's a lifestyle."

We move through the hallway like it's a runway, students stepping aside on instinct. It's muscle memory at this point look at Regina George, don't touch Regina George, don't even breathe near Regina George unless invited.*

And that's when I see him.

He's leaning against Locker 318 like he owns it and possibly the concept of rebellion itself. Ripped black jeans. Scuffed boots. A faded Löded Dïpper tee that looks like it's lost at least two battles with a washing machine. His hair is an artful mess that shouldn't work but does, and there's a drumstick tucked behind his ear like an accessory he forgot to take off. He's tapping his fingers against the locker in some private rhythm, careless and loud, and it's annoying how quickly my heartbeat decides to match the tempo.

Next to him stands Janis Ian, sketchbook out, eyeliner sharper than her mood. She looks up, sees me, and immediately makes a face that lands somewhere between don't you dare and please don't make my life harder.

"Is that the new guy?" Gretchen whispers, leaning in. "He's kind of don't get mad he's kind of hot."

Karen nods like a bobblehead. "He looks like a biker who got lost in a mall."

Cady grins. "He spilled coffee on Coach Carr before first period. He's already a legend."

I don't slow down, but my feet betray me, changing course all on their own. There's something magnetic about him, something that makes me forget my carefully scheduled indifference. Janis sees it and immediately mouths,
Don't.

I ignore her. Obviously.

Stopping right in front of him, I cross my arms. He glances up, expression shifting from bored to amused in less than a heartbeat. His eyes are dark, messy, a little dangerous. I hate that I notice the tiny flecks of gold near the center.

"You're in my spot," I say, tone cool and perfect.

He looks at the empty stretch of locker beside him, then back at me, smirk curling at the edge of his mouth. "Didn't see your name on it, Princess."

My jaw tightens. The drumstick in his hand clicks against the metal, echoing just enough to irritate me. "It's Regina," I correct.

"Regina," he repeats slowly, like he's trying out a new chord. "I'm Rodrick."

Before I can reply, Cady pipes up from behind me, because of course she does. "Rodrick is Janis's cousin."

Janis groans, muttering something about witness protection.

"Regina George," Gretchen says helpfully, like she's narrating a documentary. "She's

"I know who she is," Rodrick cuts in, his gaze never leaving mine. "She walks like a siren and starts wars with her heels."

For a second, I forget how to breathe. Then I remind myself I'm Regina George, and I don't get flustered.

"Move," I tell him, my voice sugar-coated and sharp. "I have somewhere to be that isn't you."

He pushes off the locker slowly, closing the distance between us in a way that feels deliberate. He's close enough that I catch the faint scent of detergent, gasoline, and vanilla lip balm definitely not his. My heart gives an inconvenient little flutter that I immediately ignore.

"Funny," he says quietly, his tone laced with challenge. "I was about to tell you the same thing."

For a second, it feels like the entire hallway stops to see who will move first. His smirk stays. My glare doesn't waver. The air hums between us like feedback from a speaker turned too high.

Then Gretchen tugs my sleeve, breaking the spell. "Regina, we're gonna be late."

I turn on my heel, tossing my hair over my shoulder like the end of a movie scene. "Enjoy your temporary spot, Rodrick "

He laughs low, amused, entirely unbothered. "See you around, Princess."

I don't answer. But my pulse skips again, traitorous as ever.

And for the first time all morning, I don't mind being a little late.