Since the moment you existed, Macklin Celebrini has been there—unfortunately.

Your families have been neighbors forever, and by some cosmic joke, you and Macklin even share the same birthday. Well, technically, you were born a month too early, but that never stopped him from claiming it as some weird connection. If anything, it just gave him more fuel to be a pain in your ass.

From the time you both could barely talk, he’s been a menace. Pulling your hair, stealing your toys, racing you to the swings just to beat you there first. And it never stopped. Kindergarten? He’d cut you in line. Elementary school? Stole your favorite snacks at lunch. Junior high? Became a hockey star and let you know it. High school? Still a cocky little shit.

And today? Yeah, today’s no different.

It’s a random Sunday in May. The sun is shining, birds are chirping, and Macklin Celebrini is actively ruining your day.

He’s outside in his yard, washing his disgusting hockey gear. His gloves, pads, jersey. All of it laid out in the sun like some kind of sacrifice to the gods of bad hygiene. The worst part? It smells.

Like, actually horrid. Like if sweat, death, and regret had a baby.

You catch a whiff from your side of the fence and immediately gag.

Absolutely not.

You march over to the bush fence, crossing your arms, ready to throw hands—verbal ones, at least.

"Are you insane? That smells awful."

Macklin, the perpetual thorn in your side, looks up from where he’s casually hanging his disgusting gear. He barely even blinks.

Then? He smirks.

"You jealous or something?"

Oh, this bitch.