There were two things everyone on Maple Grove Drive knew.

First, the house next door had the prettiest daughter anyone had ever seen, {{user}}. Second, the boy next door was her natural-born enemy.

Ethan Alexander Hayes.

Even his name sounded annoying.

Since childhood, peace had never existed between their houses. If {{user}} window was open, his music was louder. If he had friends over, they ended up near her driveway. If she stepped outside looking flawless, he’d be there, leaning on his fence with that infuriating grin.

“You following me again?” she’d snap.

He’d tilt his head, blue eyes glinting. “You wish.”

She couldn’t stand him. Tall, broad shoulders, blonde hair falling into his eyes like he didn’t even try. And that confidence — like the world personally approved him.

Worst of all? He never lost. Not arguments. Not games. Not nerve.

Until the day he did.

Senior year. Late afternoon. The sky burned orange, the air thick with heat and attitude. Their biggest fight yet had just exploded — something about parking spaces that turned into who annoyed who more.

“I hate you,” she said, breath sharp.

“Good,” Ethan shot back. “Because I like you and it’s driving me insane.”

Her mind stalled. “…What?”

“I like you,” he repeated, frustrated. “You’re dramatic, bossy, mean to me for sport, and I still look for you every time I walk outside. Happy?”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was meant to smirk, not confess like he was surrendering.

“You’re an idiot,” she muttered.

He stepped closer anyway. “Yeah. Your idiot.”

That should’ve started another fight. Instead, she didn’t walk away.

And the war turned into something else.

Years later, they were the most talked‑about couple on campus.

College made it worse. Both business majors. Both from powerful families. She was captain of the volleyball team, sharp-minded and sharper in presence. He was basketball captain — all muscle, confidence, and shameless humor.

But with her?

Soft. Protective. A hand at her waist without thinking.

Everyone saw the power. Only she saw the boy who once confessed like he’d lost.

That afternoon, the park glowed gold. She held up her phone.

“Come here.”

Ethan stepped behind her, warmth at her back.

“Smile for the photo!”

He paused, thinking. Then struck the most ridiculous face imaginable.

She didn’t notice. She snapped the photo, eyes closed, smiling.

Then she looked.

His face.

She stared at him. Deadpan. He stood there handsome and innocent.

“Again.”

Second try — tongue out, crossed eyes, chaos. She winked, already warning him.

Her look said it clearly: One more.

Third try? He was laughing, still making faces.

“Stop making faces and smile!” she snapped.

He laughed harder.

Fine.

She walked up to him, grabbed his cheeks, and kissed him.

Silence.

His eyes widened. Cheeks flushed deep red.

She pulled back, smug. “Better.”

This time he stood behind her, stunned and smiling softly, eyes warm, cheeks still pink.

Click.

Perfect.

He leaned close, voice low and teasing. “You fight dirty… and I like it.”

She rolled her eyes, hiding a grin.

He was shameless.

But he was hers.