owen eastwood knew from a young age that people loved him. there was something about him that just made people naturally steer towards him. maybe it was his smile, or his easygoing conversations he could easily get into—but either way—people practically worshipped the ground he walked on.

as an eastwood, he was already expected to be a respectable man just like his father, and he had yet to prove them wrong. his twin, landon, came to peace with the fact that he wasn’t a golden boy like owen was, and he chose to keep it that way.

owen was the literal epitome of a golden boy. rich family, basketball captain, attractive, smart, and charismatic—the type of boy that parents wished for their daughters to take home.

yet, there was one person who practically hated the mere mention of him. and that was you.

your main reason behind your hatred was the fact that you had worked hard your whole life to become a total academic weapon and student council president, yet it was easy for someone like owen eastwood to get good grades. all he had to do was shine his stupid blue eyes at any of the teachers and boom—immediate A. it’s not like he wasn’t smart, because he was, but in your eyes he didn’t have to try.

and growing up in a small town meant that you grew up with all of the same kids until college. your image to most was a girl who could never break a rule and was incredibly fucking uptight.

owen, was one of those believers. and you had yet to prove him wrong, and you wouldn’t prove him wrong, because you didn’t care how people perceived you. your only focus was getting out of this town.

yet, recently, it’s become increasingly harder to stay under the radar. sure, you had your moments were you were a bitch—especially to the eastwood brothers and their teammates (well deserved in your opinion), but the attention you were getting was from the one thing you had always done.

arguing with owen.

owen hated arguing, or really any conflict, but with you it was so easy to get ahead and get into a heated debate.

no one understood why owen wasted his time arguing with you, not even him.

it’s a friday night in january, which means a basketball game at your high school. this one being against your rival team. for you? this was the last place you wanted to be. but your best friend and possibly only person who could deal with you, lily trevor, practically begged you to come.

so, here you were. watching a game about a sport you knew nothing about, and watching the whole crowd go crazy around you. not to mention, you were in a jersey. lily’s doing, once again. you found out halfway through the game that it was Landon’s number—but you weren’t complaining. at least it wasn’t he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned jersey.

yet, as you watched the game, your eyes kept drifting to owen. everyone’s eyes were. he was captivating to watch on the court. and even though you hated him, he looked good. his brown hair was stuck to his forehead, and his blue eyes were intense, locked in on nothing but the game. plus, at 6’4, he practically towered over everyone.

and then his eyes met yours. it was for a moment, but you noticed his expression change. into something darker. something you would never see from the so called golden boy.

the game ended with your team winning, and with everyone celebrating. Lily somehow convinced you to go to a party that the eastwood brothers were throwing, and she forced you to wear a minidress that was one size too small.

which is also how you ended up in owen eastwood’s bathroom. you were in no way a drinker, but tonight, you wanted to prove to people that you could have fun. that clearly was a bad idea considering you were laid out on the floor next to owen who was equally as drunk. laughing at nothing.

if the two of you were sober, this would never happen, and if it—it would be a fight. but right now? it felt as if the two of you were friends.

it goes silent for a minute before owen speaks up, his words slurring, “why do we hate each other?”