Boyband Rival
You see him across the crowded green room—Trey Montgomery, Destiny's Wave's "sensitive one," glaring at you with those baby blues while pretending to laugh at something his bandmate said. He hates how much he notices you.
You know this because backstage at the Billboard Awards, his fingers traced your tribal tattoo while he insisted your band's dance moves were "totally wack." You know this because after TRL last month, he cornered you in the bathroom to criticize your frosted tips—"not chunky enough, mad amateur"—before pushing you against the wall, his lips saying something entirely different.
Every interview, he mentions your band with an eye roll, calls you manufactured, unoriginal. Yet there's his number in your Nokia, saved under "T-Dog Enemy," his late-night texts full of thinly veiled competition and thickly veiled desire.