The bass from the speakers thumped so hard that Noah could feel it in his chest as he laughed, leaning against the wall of his friend Tyler's loft. The party was in full swing—lights flickered like strobes, and the smell of cheap perfume mixed with the faint tang of spilled beer. Noah, the undisputed star of Eastside High's ice hockey team, was exactly where he wanted to be: at the center of attention.
Girls hung on his every word, laughing at his exaggerated stories about last week's game. He grinned at them, tousling his dark curls as if the attention didn't matter—but, of course, it did. It always did.
"Blake!" one of the cheerleaders squealed, practically bouncing on her heels. "You have to come show us your moves on the dance floor."
"No way, I'll ruin the vibe," Noah said with mock humility, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He could already feel their eyes on him, hungry and curious. That alone was enough.
"Don't be a buzzkill," Brielle snapped, rolling her perfectly lined eyes. The head cheerleader was every bit as bossy and beautiful as the gossip magazines made her out to be—and she loved that Noah noticed her.
"I'm…busy," Noah said, eyes scanning the room. Somewhere near the makeshift bar, Milo and Toby were probably concocting some ridiculous prank involving glitter and someone's phone. He could practically hear the mischief buzzing through the air.
"Busy staring at your reflection?" Brielle teased, leaning closer, smirking like she already knew the answer.
"Nope. Just…enjoying the crowd," Noah said smoothly, sipping from his solo cup.
And then, he saw him.
Julian.
He didn't notice Julian immediately—not at first. But when their eyes met across the room, Noah's entire body seemed to register something new, something that wasn't supposed to happen. Julian was standing by the window, quiet, almost ethereal. Tall, lean, angelic. Glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, perfectly framing green eyes that looked at Noah like he was a puzzle, a complication that no one had asked for—but couldn't ignore.
Noah's grin faltered for the briefest second.
He had no idea who this guy was, and yet, already, the pull was undeniable.
Noah didn't notice the steps until it was too late. He was weaving through the crowd, throwing a playful punch at Tyler's shoulder, when Julian—completely oblivious to the chaos of the party—moved forward.
The collision was inevitable.
Noah's cup tipped, splashing beer across Julian's crisp white shirt.
"Oh, great," Julian said, looking down at the stain, then back up at Noah with an expression that could have been angelic—or murderous. Noah wasn't sure which.
"Hey—shit! Sorry!" Noah exclaimed, stepping back, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I didn't—"
Julian raised a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. "You really should watch where you're going." His voice was soft but precise, like each word was a scalpel.
Noah blinked, taken aback by how calm and collected Julian seemed—like nothing in this chaotic party could faze him. "And you should watch where you're standing, Mr…?"
"Julian," he said, as if the single name were a warning. "Julian Ainsworth."
Noah's brain stumbled. Ainsworth? Sounds rich. Sounds perfect. Sounds like trouble.
"Well, Julian Ainsworth," Noah said, his grin returning but sharper, teasing, "you might want to step out of the way of the next star of Eastside High."
Julian didn't even flinch. Instead, he gave Noah the kind of look that made his chest tighten—the angelic gaze, calm and piercing. "Star?" His tone was neutral, almost bored, but the subtle mockery in his green eyes burned hotter than anything Noah had felt all night.
Noah felt heat rising in his ears. That look wasn't supposed to get to him. But it did. Oh, it did.
Brielle, standing nearby, gasped. "Ooooh, new guy's feisty," she whispered to Cassie, who practically clutched her pearls in excitement.
Milo sidled up to Toby, whispering, "Did you see that? He's already ruffling the jock's feathers. This is going to be entertaining."
Noah's friends, Tyler included, were already laughing at him behind his back. "Careful, man," Tyler said, nudging him. "He's…different."
"Different?" Noah repeated, smirking, though his stomach twisted. "He's just…a nerd."
Julian raised an eyebrow, clearly overhearing. "I prefer the term 'intellectually advanced.'" His lips curved into the faintest smirk, the kind that promised trouble—and Noah hated how much he wanted to see that smirk again.
By some cruel twist of fate, Noah and Julian ended up side by side at the balcony, the noise from the party below barely reaching them. Noah wanted to glare, to insult, to walk away—but he couldn't. Julian's presence was magnetic, a strange pull that he hated to admit he felt.
"You know," Julian began, looking at the city lights, "you really shouldn't throw drinks around. It's…messy. And uncivilized."
Noah laughed, a little too loud. "And you shouldn't stand in the middle of a party like a…like a…like a statue." He gestured vaguely at Julian. "Just…frozen. Judging everyone. Especially me."
Julian turned his head slightly, green eyes twinkling. "I am judging. But only the reckless ones."
Noah felt his heart do something stupid and fast. Reckless ones, huh? He hated that Julian had already pegged him.
"You know," Noah said, leaning just a fraction closer, "for someone who looks like a saint, you're kinda…naughty."
Julian's smirk widened, and for a brief second, his angelic innocence slipped. "I could say the same about you, Blake."
The nickname made Noah blink. How did he know his last name? Never mind—the way Julian said it, like it belonged in a challenge, made Noah's pulse spike.
Of course, the cheerleaders had noticed their private balcony confrontation. Brielle whispered something to Cassie, eyes narrowing. "Oh no. He's interested. And I do not like this."
Meanwhile, Toby and Eli were already crafting some imaginary scenario involving Julian stealing Noah away from the party. Milo was laughing so hard he nearly spilled his drink.
Noah, oblivious to most of the gossip, focused entirely on Julian. The angelic nerd—who looked like he shouldn't belong in a chaotic party at all—was smirking at him in a way that made Noah want to throw both hands in the air and surrender, or maybe shove him against the balcony railing.
Either way, he was hooked.
Later, after a forced separation as Julian retreated inside to escape the spilled beer, Noah leaned against the balcony, staring after him.
"What the hell," he muttered, and that was the truth. He hated how much he wanted to see Julian again. How he could feel his gaze lingering long after the other boy was gone.
Julian, meanwhile, adjusted his glasses, a small smirk playing on his lips. Blake—Noah Blake—was infuriating, gorgeous, and utterly oblivious. Perfect for teasing. Julian had no intention of letting him get comfortable. Not tonight. Not ever.
And deep down, both of them knew this wasn't going to be just a rivalry. Not when the sparks were this hot.