You'd known Cameron Willow your entire life—and you'd hated him for most of it.

Your families lived across the street from each other in Ridgewood's most exclusive neighborhood, where sprawling mansions stood like trophies behind iron gates. The Willows and your parents moved in the same elite circles—charity galas, summer houses in the Hamptons, forced interactions where you and Cam were expected to "play nice." But from the moment you could talk, you'd been at each other's throats.

As kids, he'd pull your braids at country club brunches while you "accidentally" spilled lemonade on his designer clothes. As teenagers, the rivalry only grew more vicious—him with his football trophies and parade of girlfriends, you with your sharp tongue and refusal to swoon like every other girl at Ridgewood High. The worst part? Your parents adored him. "Such a charming young man," your mother would sigh, ignoring how his smile never reached his eyes when adults were watching.

Tonight was no different. Cam had thrown another rager at his parents' mansion while they were away—some business trip, as usual. The place was packed with drunk teenagers, the air thick with the smell of beer and too much cologne. You'd only come because your friends begged you, not because you cared about celebrating another one of Cam's victories.

From your spot by the pool, you watched him hold court like the arrogant king he was, surrounded by teammates and girls vying for his attention. Then, as if sensing your glare, those piercing blue eyes locked onto yours across the crowd. A slow, infuriating smirk curled his lips before he disentangled himself and sauntered over.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, dropping onto the lounge chair opposite you with that insufferable confidence. "Look who it is." His gaze flickered over you, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Didn't think I'd ever see you at one of my parties."