FROM RIVALS TO FOREVER

The second I stepped into Crestwood Academy’s Class 3A, I wondered if I’d accidentally walked into a street riot. Papers flew like desperate birds escaping a cage. Someone was standing on a desk, shouting about “the revolution” while two boys in the corner played cards with actual money. The air was heavy with perfume, cologne, and the scent of chaos. Not exactly the quiet first day I’d pictured. I clutched my designer tote closer — not because I was afraid someone would steal it (please, this was Crestwood — everyone’s bag could buy a small country), but because it was my shield. My armor. Then I saw her. Daniella Vance. She wasn’t hard to spot — the kind of girl who looked like she was born in slow motion. Long dark hair spilling over a crisp white blouse, legs crossed elegantly as if the chaos around her was a boring TV show she couldn’t change the channel on. Her phone glowed in her hand, a faint smirk on her face as she scrolled. And next to her? An empty seat. I made my way over, ignoring the guy who tried to “accidentally” block my path just to ask if I was new. “Seat taken?” I asked, voice neutral. She looked up, and for a moment, her gaze was sharp — assessing, like she was deciding whether I was worth talking to. Then, the smirk softened into something almost friendly. “Nope. But once you sit here, you can’t complain about my taste in music or snacks.” “Noted,” I said, sliding into the seat. It started small — a shared laugh at the boy in the corner who tripped over his own shoelaces, whispered comments about teachers’ weird quirks, swapping lunch items without asking. By the end of the week, we’d already made plans to hang out. By the end of the month, she’d been to my house twice, and I’d slept over at hers three times. Daniella’s family was the kind of rich that didn’t have to flaunt it — their house didn’t scream “money,” it whispered it in marble floors, high ceilings, and art that probably cost more than my car. And then… there was Daniel. The first time I met him wasn’t exactly… ideal. It was a Friday, and Daniella had invited me over to stay the weekend. Her parents were away on some charity trip, and she wanted to “make it a full girls’ weekend.” “Your room’s upstairs,” she’d said, tossing her curls over her shoulder. “Third door on the left. You’ll love it — it’s huge.” I’d grabbed my bags and headed up, eager to see the place I’d be calling mine for the next two nights. But when I opened the door— Well. Let’s just say there are things in life you can’t unsee. Daniel Vance stood there, shirtless, his toned abs looking like they’d been carved just to ruin someone’s concentration. His hair was messy, damp — like he’d just stepped out of the shower. My brain short-circuited for two seconds before I slapped my hands over my eyes. “Oh my God— I’m sorry!” I blurted, spinning halfway toward the door. “Too late,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. And then—oh, hell no—he grabbed my wrist and pulled me further in. “Hey—!” “What’s the matter? Afraid of a little anatomy lesson?” His tone was pure teasing, and unfortunately, my other hand had somehow landed directly on his abs in the struggle. They were warm. Solid. And I hated that my brain registered that fact. “You’re disgusting,” I said, shoving him away and bolting back out into the hall. His laugh followed me. “And yet, you didn’t let go right away.” --- That should have been the last time I saw him that day. But of course, the universe doesn’t like me. It was late — Daniella and I had been in her room binge-watching a ridiculous dating show when she suddenly decided she needed a snack. “Stay here,” she said, grabbing her phone. “I’ll be right back. Oh— if Daniel’s still awake, tell him to make popcorn.” I snorted. “You tell him.” She rolled her eyes and left, but ten minutes later, she called up from downstairs, “Hey! Can you get Daniel? He’s probably in his room!” Grumbling, I made my way to his door and knocked once. No answer. So I opened it— And nearly died on the spot. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling on a hoodie… except he hadn’t finished yet. Which meant I walked in just as his bare chest and half-removed shirt were in full display. Worse — his sweatpants hung low enough that my brain screamed don’t look while my eyes did exactly the opposite. “Wrong room!” I yelped, turning to leave. “Oh, no you don’t,” he said, standing and walking toward me with that damn smirk. “You seem to have a habit of barging into my personal space. Maybe you should be punished.” “I don’t have time for your crap,” I said, backing up. But he was already close enough that I could feel the heat of him. “Careful, princess. Keep looking at me like that and I might start thinking you like what you see.” “Dream on.” And with that, I shoved past him, pretending my heart wasn’t doing weird gymnastics in my chest. By the time I made it back to Daniella’s room, she was sprawled on her bed, scrolling on her phone like the ten minutes she’d been gone hadn’t existed. “Did you tell him?” she asked, without looking up. “Yep,” I said, tossing myself onto her beanbag chair. “Also, your brother’s a menace to society.” That got her attention. Her head lifted, one eyebrow arching. “What did he do this time?” I waved a hand vaguely. “Nothing worth repeating. Just know that he has the personality of a mosquito and the ego of a movie star.” She laughed — loud and unbothered. “Yeah, that’s Daniel.” I narrowed my eyes. “You say that like you’re proud.” “Oh, I’m not proud. I just… accept it. The way you accept bad weather or bad hair days. It’s annoying, but you deal with it.” I shook my head, a small smile tugging at my lips despite myself. Daniella had this effect on people — making irritation feel lighter, less sharp. We stayed up late, eating popcorn Daniel eventually sent up via the maid (thank God), and watching movies until our eyes felt heavy. By the time I crawled under the silk duvet in Daniella’s guest bed, I was almost comfortable enough to forget her brother existed. Almost. --- The next morning, I woke early — old habit. The Vance house was quiet, the kind of quiet you only find in rich homes, where every sound is softened by space and distance. I decided to explore. The upstairs hallway stretched long and perfect, sunlight spilling in from tall windows at the far end. I peeked into a couple of open doors — a library with floor-to-ceiling shelves, a lounge with a piano I didn’t dare touch. Then I passed his room. The door was ajar. And yes, I paused. Not because I wanted to see him — absolutely not — but because curiosity is a human weakness and I am, unfortunately, human. He was there, standing in front of his mirror, buttoning a crisp white shirt. His hair was damp again, like mornings were his excuse to torture me with that just-showered look. Before I could sneak away, his eyes caught mine in the reflection. A slow smirk spread across his face. “Good morning, princess,” he said. “Don’t call me that,” I shot back automatically. “What should I call you, then? Peeping Tom?” I rolled my eyes so hard it almost hurt. “I wasn’t peeping.” “Mhm.” He stepped closer, not breaking eye contact. “If you keep hanging around my door like this, people might start to think you like me.” “People would have to be blind,” I said, and turned to leave before he could respond. --- Back in Daniella’s room, she was just waking up. “I’m starving,” she groaned, sitting up. “Let’s go down for breakfast.” The Vance kitchen looked like something out of a cooking show — gleaming counters, chrome appliances, the faint smell of coffee in the air. Daniella pulled me toward the long dining table where a maid was already setting out plates. Daniel was there. Of course. He glanced up from his phone, eyes flicking between us. “Morning, ladies.” I ignored him and poured myself juice. Daniella was mid-sentence about something she’d seen online when a sudden voice cut in. “You know, you should be careful walking around this house in shorts that small.” I froze. “Excuse me?” Daniel leaned back in his chair, smirk infuriating. “I’m just saying, the staff are men too. They might get ideas.” My jaw tightened. “If they get ideas, I’ll kick them in the face. And if you get ideas, I’ll make sure you can’t have children.” Daniella burst out laughing so hard she nearly spilled her coffee. Daniel only chuckled, clearly unfazed — maybe even entertained. --- That weekend was the beginning of a strange, irritating pattern. Every time I came over, he found a way to push my buttons. Little comments. Subtle touches when he brushed past. Smirks that lingered too long. I told myself it didn’t bother me. I told myself I was immune. I lied to myself. Because somewhere between the banter and the accidental moments where his eyes softened — just for a split second — I started noticing him. Noticing the way his laugh was different when he talked to Daniella, the way he stood up for her without thinking, the way his gaze sometimes lingered on me like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. I hated it. I hated him. Or at least, that’s what I kept saying. --- One Monday, everything shifted. I was at school, heading toward Daniella’s locker, when a boy I vaguely recognized stepped in front of me. Tall, smug smile, eyes that scanned me like I was a product in a*****e. “Hey,” he said. “I’ve seen you around. You’re Daniella’s friend, right?” “Yeah,” I said slowly. “I was thinking — we should hang out sometime. Just us.” I opened my mouth to politely decline, but before I could — a shadow fell over us. Daniel. He stepped between us, shoulders tense, jaw tight. “She’s not interested.” The boy frowned. “I didn’t ask you.” “And I didn’t ask you to talk to her,” Daniel said, voice dangerously low. “Walk away. Now.” The boy hesitated, then left, muttering under his breath. I crossed my arms. “I could’ve handled that.” “I know,” Daniel said, turning to me. “But it’s more fun to scare them off myself.” “Why do you care?” I asked. His smirk returned, but there was something in his eyes I couldn’t read. “Let’s just say… I don’t like sharing.” --- That’s when I realized something dangerous. Daniel Vance wasn’t just an annoying older brother figure in my life. He was becoming something else entirely. And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.