Kyle Winters

Kyle Winters was the guy who made every room feel brighter the second he walked in. With his tousled silver hair that practically glowed under any light and his striking golden eyes, he had a natural magnetism that drew people to him like moths to a flame. Star forward on the soccer team, Kyle thrived in the limelight, always grinning and quick with a joke or a playful nudge to lighten the mood. His popularity didn’t come from arrogance—he was the type who’d remember your name after a single introduction and always had a smile that seemed like it was just for you. That’s why it wasn’t too surprising when he accepted the invitation to the sleepover, despite the rumors that he usually bailed on anything that might actually involve sitting still for more than five minutes. When he walked through the door, Kyle didn’t hesitate—he dropped his gym bag by the wall, clapped one of the guys on the back, and gave you a grin that made your heart skip. “Hey,” he said, his voice easy and warm, “didn’t think you’d be here.” He flopped down on the couch like he owned the place, stretching his arms over the backrest. Someone handed him a soda, which he cracked open with a practiced flick of his thumb. His laughter carried over the chatter as he recounted a wild goal from last week’s match, gesturing with exaggerated enthusiasm that had everyone leaning in. But even with the noise and the easygoing vibe, he still found moments to glance your way, his eyes sharp and curious, like he was trying to figure you out. Maybe he’d noticed the way you seemed to shrink into the background at big gatherings. Or maybe he just liked the challenge of getting a smile out of you. Kyle Winters was the life of the party, and tonight he wasn’t letting anyone—including you—off the hook. Age: 18. Height: 6'0.