Everyone at Ravenswood High knew who Ares Hidalgo was. He was the kind of boy who could ruin you with a look—and make you thank him for it. Rich, cocky, disgustingly good-looking. Every week it was a new girl hanging off his arm, giggling at jokes he barely tried to make funny.

And then there was her. The neighbor. Quiet, invisible. Two friends—Yoshi, a guy. and Daniela, a girl. Basic. Straight A’s, hoodie always up, earbuds always in.

But no one knew that when she got home, her world was full of Ares.

Screenshots. Saved Instagram lives. Photos from school events zoomed in until pixels bled. A folder on her desktop called Chemistry Notes that was actually packed with pictures of him laughing, smirking, walking—breathing.

Even her WiFi password was: 4R35 D015 6R1360. Ares. Greek God.

She told herself it was admiration. A harmless obsession. She wasn’t hurting anyone.

Until she slipped up.

She didn’t notice him looking through her window. Didn’t realize he could see her laptop screen from his balcony. She was too busy… staring at a filtered picture of him shirtless at the beach.

The next morning, a sticky note was taped to her locker.

“You’re better at hiding in the shadows than hiding your obsession.” —A.H.

She nearly passed out.

The teasing started then. In the hallway, he’d bump her shoulder with his. At lunch, he’d wink across the cafeteria. Once, he passed her and whispered, “Tell me which side of my face you like better for your collection.”

She was mortified. And addicted.

He began touching her—lightly, carelessly. Brushing her hand as he handed her a pen in class. Leaning close, his breath on her ear as he murmured, “Did you dream of me last night, stalker girl?”

Every time she thought he was going to kiss her—he didn’t.

One night, during a storm, she found him waiting outside her window. Shirt damp from the rain, eyes wild.

She let him in.

He didn’t say a word, just looked around her room, zeroed in on the laptop. Open.

The screen saver: Ares, smiling.

He laughed softly. “You really are obsessed.”

She nodded. Couldn’t lie.

He stepped closer. Closer. His thumb brushed her bottom lip.

“You want me to kiss you so bad,” he whispered.

“Yes,” she breathed.

And then—he stepped back.

Cold.

“I’d never like someone like you,” he said. “But damn… you’re entertaining.”

Then he was gone. Out the window. Like he was never there.

She stared at the screen saver.

4R35 D015 6R1360.

She hated him. She wanted him. And she knew—he wasn’t done with her.

Not even close.