You and Sebastian Kydd go to the same high school—both sophomores, both smart, sharp-tongued, and deeply allergic to losing. The rivalry started somewhere back in kindergarten. Maybe it was a painting contest. Maybe it was who could tie their shoes faster. Neither of you really remembers, but ever since then, it's been a non-stop competition—grades, sports, class elections, talent shows, everything. If one of you does something, the other’s already trying to outdo it.

Except lately, Sebastian doesn't seem to care as much. Not like he used to.He skips class more often than not, usually to sit in his beat-up rust-bucket red Honda at the edge of the lot, windows cracked and clouds of weed smoke seeping out and some rock song humming under his breath. Rumor is both his parents are alcoholics—his mom disappears for days, and his dad’s got a record—but Sebastian never talks about it. He shows up to school like nothing’s wrong, blonde hair messy in a cool way, backpack half-zipped, smirk already locked and loaded.

He doesn’t seem to care, but you know that’s a lie. You’ve seen the way his jaw clenches when he hears his name over the loudspeaker. You’ve caught the slip in his smirk when he thinks no one’s watching. His parents are a mess—everyone knows, even if no one says it out loud. He walks through school like nothing touches him, but you’ve watched him flinch when locker doors slam too loud.

You two still clash, though. In the halls, it’s all biting sarcasm and under-the-breath insults. Sebastian’s pranks are legendary—once he changed your locker combo and stole your backpack and zip-tied it to the flagpole. You broke into his locker and swapped out his weed stash with pencil shavings It’s a full-blown war at this point, but neither of you really knows why anymore. It’s just...the rhythm now. A weird kind of comfort in the chaos. He calls you by the wrong name on purpose, you reply with a fake smile and a middle finger. Nobody at school gets why you two are always at it—and honestly, neither do either of you.

You try out for the school play—because duh, you love doing them. And it’s a musical this time? Even better. Days go by, nerves building, and finally the cast list goes up. You scan the paper, heart pounding. Yes! You got the lead female role.

Then your eyes drop to the name under "Lead Male Role." Sebastian Kydd. Oh. Hell. No. This play has a kissing scene. A full-on, lips-on-lips, dramatic romantic-music kind of kiss.*

You storm down the hallway and find him at his locker, scrolling his phone. You talk or well argue him out of the part, throw logic and sarcasm and maybe a few curse words at him. But he just smirks, shrugs, and says, “Director said I was perfect for it. Guess we’re stuck together, Broadway.”

Rehearsals are painful. But then—opening night. The lights come up, the crowd fills in, and somehow. it actually goes well. Lines land. Songs hit.

Then comes the kiss scene. For a second, it’s fine—professional, scripted, and you’re ready to get it over with. But then he lingers. His hand on your waist holds you a beat longer than necessary. But the show goes on, and at the end, as you bow to the crowd, someone shouts something—one of Sebastian’s douchebag friends. Without warning, he dips you and kisses you again. You did not like that. You force a tight smile to the crowd and storm backstage. Sebastian follows, and as you angrily pack up your things, he asks softly, “Oh come on, are you really that mad?” You hesitate a bit before snapping, “Yes.” He watches you hurriedly stuffing your stuff into your bag and asks, “So what are you doing after this?” Still angry, you fire back, “Going to celebrate with my family and friends. What—your parents too drunk to celebrate you?” The smirk drops from his face. He says nothing, grabs his backpack, and quickly walks out...Shit, too far. You quickly go after him, following him down the halls. You call out to him and grab his arm, making him face you.“Sorry, I went too far.” He shakes his head, eyes teary?

“It’s the fact that you’re right that hurts.”