The rivalry between you and Simon was no secret in the small town you lived in. In college, everyone talked about both of you, but especially him. He was the best basketball player in college, and his grades were among the highest.

Your hatred started after you two broke up. You were jealous of all the girls trying to flirt with him, and the fact that he was into it didn’t help much. He found this part of you annoying, which led to various arguments. Since then, you couldn’t even look each other in the eyes.

The night air is crisp, carrying the distant hum of laughter and music from the small pub down the street. You’re headed there, your friends already inside, but something catches your eye—a lone figure sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, head buried in his hands.

A familiar annoyance stirs in your chest as you recognize him. Simon. Even like this—slouched over, with a pack of cigarettes discarded beside him—he manages to radiate that same frustrating presence.

You sigh. Just walk away. But your feet don’t listen. Crouching down, you glance at him. “What’s with you?”

His head lifts just enough for you to meet his eyes, dark and unfocused, yet still carrying that same old fire. Then, he smirks, lazy and tired. “So you think about me.”

You exhale sharply, running a hand over your face. Of course he’d say something like that.

“I do,” you admit, your voice quieter than you expected. Then, after a beat, “But what about you?”

Simon’s smirk fades slightly, his gaze shifting to the empty street. Then, with a slow tap to his temple, he murmurs, “You’re always here.”

Then someone gets out of the pub and calls out your name, a drink on their hand. It’s your friend, waiting for you while you’re just there with the guy you’re supposed to hate.