Billie only agrees to the coffee run because Reneé wants iced coffee at nine o’clock at night. Then you smile at them from behind the counter and suddenly neither of them remembers how to act normal. You’re warm in a quiet kind of way — sleepy eyes, gentle voice, rings on your fingers tapping against coffee cups while you laugh at Reneé’s terrible flirting and Billie’s dry comments. And for some reason, they keep finding excuses to come back. Different orders. Longer conversations. Sitting in the shop hours after getting their drinks just to watch you work. The worst part is that you still seem completely unaware that two celebrities are slowly losing their minds over you. Or: Billie and Reneé become regulars at a tiny coffee shop because they’re both helplessly in love with the barista.
Billie and Reneé have attended enough charity galas to know exactly what to expect. Expensive dresses. Boring speeches. Famous people pretending not to stare at each other across crowded ballrooms. What they don’t expect is you.
Billie and Reneé have been together for years. Long enough to master secret glances across crowded rooms, stolen kisses backstage, and pretending they’re nothing more than friends whenever cameras are around. On tour, it’s just another routine. Reneé opens the show. Billie headlines. They disappear backstage between sets and do it all again the next night. Until they both notice the same person. Not another musician. Not a celebrity. A venue security guard standing by the barricade, calmly directing fans and barely sparing either of them a second glance. Billie notices you first. Reneé notices the way Billie can’t stop looking. Then she looks too. By the end of the night, they’re both inventing excuses to walk past your post, lingering in conversations they don’t need to have, and hoping you’ll be working the next show. The problem? You have no idea the two women quietly trying to get your attention have already agreed on one thing. They’d really like to get to know you. Or: Billie and Reneé accidentally develop a mutual crush on the same venue security guard while on tour and become embarrassingly obvious about it.
Regina George has spent years perfecting the art of not caring. At North Shore, everyone knows who she is. Everyone wants to be her friend, date her, or be noticed by her. Then there’s you. The girl everyone else avoids. You sit alone at lunch, rarely speak in class, and have a reputation that follows you through the halls—troubled, unpredictable, always one bad day away from falling apart. Rumors about your home life and substance problems have made you the kind of person people whisper about rather than actually talk to. Regina should hate you. She tells herself she does. Until she starts noticing things nobody else does. The bruises you hide beneath your sleeves. The exhaustion behind your eyes. The way you disappear whenever someone mentions going home. And somehow, the girl Regina once would’ve mocked becomes the person she can’t stop looking for. What starts as curiosity slowly turns into something neither of them knows how to handle. Because Regina George doesn’t fall for girls like you. And you don’t trust people like Regina. Or: Regina George falls for the troubled loner everyone else has written off, and for the first time in her life, popularity, reputation, and being in control don’t mean a damn thing.
Leighton Murray has always known what she wants: good grades, a successful future, the right image, and most importantly, control. Then you walk into her life. You’re nothing like the people she’s used to—quiet, unimpressed by her status, and somehow able to make her laugh without even trying. What starts as casual conversations and coffee between classes slowly becomes something more. Leighton finds herself wanting your attention, your trust, and eventually, your heart. For someone terrified of being truly seen, falling for you is terrifying. Or: Leighton Murray falls for the one girl who makes her forget she ever needed to have everything under control.
Leighton Murray has spent her entire life being told what kind of alpha she’s supposed to be. Powerful. Composed. Untouchable. At Essex College, she has the reputation to match—confident, intimidating, and always in control. Then she catches your scent. An omega. Quiet, withdrawn, and doing everything possible to hide what you are in a world where omegas are treated like something to be claimed instead of protected. You wear scent blockers, avoid crowded parties, and keep everyone at arm’s length for one simple reason: Alphas aren’t safe.
You and Leighton Murray have been together for months. Somehow, somewhere between late-night conversations, stolen kisses between classes, and Leighton pretending she isn’t completely obsessed with you, the two of you fell in love. And despite everything Leighton used to think she wanted, she’s never been happier. But loving someone doesn’t make their struggles disappear. Or: You spend months waiting for Leighton to decide your struggles are too much—and Leighton spends those same months proving that loving you was never the difficult part.
Leighton Murray has been your best friend for years. She knows your coffee order, your favorite shows, the stories you’ve told a hundred times, and exactly what your face looks like when you’re trying not to laugh. There’s just one thing she doesn’t know how to tell you. She’s completely in love with you. Unfortunately, you’re already dating someone. Leighton tells herself she’s happy for you. She listens when you talk about your boyfriend, gives you advice when you need it, and pretends her stomach doesn’t twist every time you call him cute. She never says anything because she values your friendship too much to risk losing you. Or: Leighton Murray has been secretly in love with her best friend for years, while her best friend remains completely oblivious—and very much in love with someone else.
You and Leighton Murray have been together for months. By now, Leighton knows that loving you sometimes means loving more than one person. You live with dissociative identity disorder, and your system has several alters, each with their own personalities, memories, boundaries, and ways of seeing the world. Leighton has slowly learned how to recognize who she’s talking to—not by treating anyone like they’re less real, but by paying attention to the little differences. Or: Leighton falls in love with someone whose mind contains more people than she expected, and slowly learns that loving a system means making room for every person inside it.
