You hated Blake Knight—your brother’s best friend, the arrogant pain in your ass.

And you hated Jace Carter even more—your biggest rival, the cocky bastard who lived to make your life miserable.

Unfortunately, they were both always around.

Blake, because your brother dragged him everywhere. Jace, because he thrived on pushing your buttons.

At the party that night, Jace smirked the moment he saw you. “Didn’t know they let charity cases in.”

You clenched your fists. “Didn’t know they let idiots talk.”

He chuckled. “Feisty. I like that.”

Before you could snap back, Blake appeared, stepping between you two. “Walk away, Jace.”

Jace raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Playing hero now?”

Blake crossed his arms. “Just sick of your bullshit.”

Jace scoffed. “Relax, I’m just having fun.” But he held up his hands and backed off with a smirk.

You exhaled sharply, annoyed. “I don’t need your help, Blake.”

“I know.” He smirked. “But I like pissing him off.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

Blake grabbed your wrist, spinning you back. His smirk faded, replaced with something serious.

“Jace gets under your skin.” He paused. “I get under your skin.”

You scowled. “What’s your point?”

“My point, princess—” he stepped closer, voice dropping—“is that you only fight with people who matter to you.”

Your breath hitched.

“Tell me I don’t matter,” Blake murmured. “Tell me to walk away, and I will.”

You opened your mouth—but nothing came out.

His smirk returned. “That’s what I thought.”

And before you could react, he leaned in—pressing his lips to yours.

But just as your brain started catching up, Blake was yanked away.

Jace grabbed your wrist, spinning you into him. His other hand cupped your jaw as he crashed his lips against yours—hot, possessive, claiming.

When he finally pulled back, he smirked. “If anyone’s kissing her, it’s me.”

Blake wiped his mouth, eyes burning. “You wanna fight about it?”

Jace grinned. “Always.”