Chapter 1
I held the expensive vase away from him.
It was the game we played.
We’d been doing things like this for as long as I could remember—quiet little wars disguised as family gatherings. Who could ruin the other’s day first without actually getting caught.
“Just hand it to me,” he said, already reaching past me.
I pulled it back, narrowing my eyes. “You know, you could try asking.”
“Montgomery.” His tone dropped. “Give it.”
I made a face, pitching my voice high. “gIvE iT—”
Flick.
My head snapped back. “Ow—what was that for? and my forehead really?”
He didn’t even look sorry. If anything, he looked entertained.
“Real mature, Monty.”
He’d been calling me that since he couldn’t pronounce Montgomery right as a kid. It stuck. Unfortunately.
I glared at him. “You just assaulted me.”
“You’ll live.” he shrugged.
“Barely.” I rubbed the small spot on my forehead while he set the vase back in place.
“That thing is worth more than both our lives,” he said, pointing at it. “And I’m not getting dragged into whatever disaster you’re about to cause.”
“Oh, look at you,” I tilted my head. “Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes.”
“Mm.” He stepped closer. “Try me.”
I rolled my eyes. “You act like being tall is a personality trait.”
Before I could react, he slid his hand into my back pocket and pulled out my phone.
“Cash—Cash, give that back right now.” I jumped, swatting at the air.
Cash Fielding.
Family friend. Lifelong rival. Personal nightmare.
“I forgot to change my password—don’t you dare—”
“Are you seriously still talking to Josh?” He scrolled, smirking. “Wow, Monty. High standards.”
I stopped fighting and leaned back against the wall, watching him instead.
He followed, closing the space again, my phone still out of reach.
Close enough that I could feel the heat off him.
Close enough that if either of us leaned in—
I shoved the thought away.
“That’s all you’ve got, shorty?” he cocked his head to the side.
I huffed. “I’m not even that short.”
A quiet laugh left him, eyes dragging over me.
“I’m six-four. You’re what—five-two?”
“Size doesn’t even matter.”
His grip tightened slightly.
“Yeah?” he murmured. “I bet you say that to all your pretty little boyfriends, don’t you, Monty?”
"Give me the phone Cash."
He didn’t.
Instead, he placed it on the top shelf like it was nothing.
“Seriously?” I muttered.
“Feelings mutual, Monty.”
I hated him.
Not enough to stop noticing him.
but I hated him.
The front door opened, laughter spilling in—Our parents had been doing this forever—double dates, shared holidays, inside jokes that didn’t include us.
They made it look easy.
Like being close didn’t come with consequences.
Sometimes I wondered how two families so close could produce something like this.
I turned back to him. He was still there, guarding the bookshelf like it mattered.
“I don’t understand how your perfectly sweet parents made you,” I said under my breath.
“And I don’t understand how yours got everything right,” he shot back. “I thought it was dream big, not dream… tiny.”
“You’ll have to give it back eventually.”
“Oh, do I?” He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the bookshelf. “I don’t remember signing anything.”
“It’s not something you sign. It’s called basic human decency.”
“And after all these years, you think I’d give you that?”
He was insufferable.
Arrogant. Pushy.
And somehow—
still annoyingly charming when it suited him.
I forced a smile. “Good to know. No heart, no decency—very on brand for you.”
“So now you’ve got an excuse to come see me?” He pushed off the shelf. “I know you’ll miss me.”
He ruffled my hair as he walked past me, heading toward the porch.
“For one, I won’t miss you,” I shot after him. “And for two, we live a block away.”
He paused, glancing back.
“You don’t have to be far to miss something you can’t have.”
I scoffed, crossing my arms. “I don’t miss things I hate.”
“Hate’s pretty close to obsession.” He said it quieter, like it wasn’t really for me.
“Wow,” I muttered. “You really think highly of yourself.”
“You think about me all the time, don’t you, Monty?” His grin came back, easy and annoying.
I turned away before he could see my reaction.
He didn’t follow.
It should’ve felt like a win.
It didn’t.
We’d lived a block apart our whole lives.
Somehow, it still wasn’t far enough.
I couldn’t stand him.
Which probably would’ve been easier—
if he didn’t know me better than anyone else.
I walked back inside, heading straight for the kitchen.
Our parents were still there, talking over each other like always—laughing, rambling, completely unaware of anything outside their little bubble.
“…she needs to find a boyfriend—”
“—we know a few nice boys—”
“—oh, she’d be perfect for—”
I stopped short.
I hated conversations like this.
Especially when I was standing right there.
Heat crept up my neck as I turned on my heel, already backing away before one of them could drag me into it.
When I turned—
I ran straight into that smirk.
Cash.
Of course he’d heard.
“Eavesdropping?” I muttered.
“Hard not to,” he said easily.
I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I just walked past him, heading for the front door this time.
He followed.
he always did.
“Sounds like the line should already be forming,” he called after me. “Any day now, you’ll get swept off your feet.”
I turned to face him, throwing my arms out. “Oh, and you’re just full of wisdom, aren’t you?”
“I’ve always been brilliant,” he said calmly. “Your parents seem to agree.”
The calm tone did it.
It always did.
“That’s because they’ve only seen your good side,” I shot back. “They should really try your side-profile sometime.”
His mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile.
Which only made it worse.
“They’re right, you know?” His voice was calm.
“You should find someone. Someone who isn’t… Josh.”
He said Josh’s name like it didn’t matter. Like he didn’t matter.
I sat down on the porch bench, crossing my arms. “Josh is a real person. And he’s a good one, at that.”
“You don’t know him like I do.”
His voice wasn’t calm anymore.
That caught my attention.
I frowned slightly. “What even happened between you two?”
I remembered them being close when we were younger.
Something must’ve happened.
Something stupid, probably.
“That’s not your business,” he said, sharper now.
Then, after a beat—
“And if you’re so curious, ask him yourself.”
He shook his head once, like the conversation was already over.
Which, unfortunately for Cash, made me even more curious.
“I just might.” I stood up quickly, lifting my chin as I looked up at him.
He didn’t scare me.
He never has.
Every time we argued, he’d try to stare me down—
like he was waiting for me to crack first.
He’d been doing it since we were kids.
And every single time—
I held his gaze.
I didn’t lose then.
I wouldn't lose now.
