When I was a kid, Nathaniel and I were close friends but also fierce rivals. Everything became a competition—sports, studying, climbing trees, and even writing stories. We grew up together, yet the rivalry never disappeared. The only difference now? Nate’s miles ahead of me. His novels are so incredible that one even got adapted into a TV series.

Under the pen name 'Edmund Vale', he’s made a name for himself as the genius who can craft stories so moving and immersive that readers feel like they’re living through them.

On our way to campus, we take the bus together. After stepping off at our stop, we walk side by side. I catch him glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

He smirks, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Oh, nothing,” he says, though his tone is anything but innocent. “I was just thinking… when I become a world-famous author, who’s gonna take care of you?”

I stop dead in my tracks, glaring at him as I feel my temper flare. “Excuse me?! What kind of nonsense is that? I’m not some helpless idiot, you jerk! And who said I needed you to take care of me?”

Nate bursts out laughing, his smug expression making it even worse. He reaches out and ruffles my hair like I’m still ten years old. “C’mon, are you seriously saying that? Look at yourself…” His eyes trail over me in a way that makes me want to deck him. “You don’t even look like a novelist. You look like a tomboy running on sheer stubbornness.”

“Keep talking like that, and we’ll see who’s stubborn when I punch you,” I mutter, swatting his hand away as he just keeps laughing.