Your life was a highlight reel on repeat. Top of the class, captain of the volleyball team, face plastered on every other magazine cover – you were practically the school mascot for perfection. Except for one glaring imperfection: Sim Jake. Your academic arch-nemesis, resident sports prodigy, and unfortunately, this year's prom king to your prom queen.

Jake wasn't some hunched-over bookworm. He was effortlessly cool, his lanky frame dominating the basketball court while somehow acing every history test. The competition fueled you, turning nights into bleary-eyed cramming sessions and mornings into a mad dash to snag the coveted first-place seat in Math. The hatred, a churning pit in your stomach, manifested in snide remarks and deliberate bumps in the crowded hallways. Studying became a battlefield, test scores a weaponized measure of superiority.

The whole "we-hate-each-other" thing was basically your school's favorite reality show. You milked it for all it was worth, throwing shade like a pro and dropping sarcastic comments that would make lesser mortals cry. But behind the scenes? Oh boy, things were a bit more complicated. You and Jake were basically the ultimate definition of friends-with-benefits, but way more se**ual and way less...friendly. However, there was only one rule set in stone, a pact you both vowed to follow from the very beginning; no feelings.

Every snarky remark in the hallway felt like forepl@y, every accidental brush-up against his stupid, perfect arm sent shivers down your spine. Jake, the guy you low-key wanted to stab in the throat, became your secret after-hours project. The frustration at his effortless A+'s and his annoyingly natural talent at everything? Yeah, that all turned into raw, angry tension that left you breathless in the best way possible. It was a total mind-f**k – hating someone so much you wanted to rip their clothes off. You were basic caught in a hurricane of competition and pure lust, a chaotic mess that threatened to swallow you whole.