Noah woke up feeling like his chest had been ripped open.
The room was dark, blinds barely cracked, and his head pounded like a war drum. But it wasn't the hangover that had him clawing at his curls, dragging both hands over his face.
It was the memory.
The heat of Julian's body trapped against the wall.
The almost-kiss that burned hotter than any touch he'd ever known.
The way his voice had dropped when he said, Make me.
Noah swore under his breath, sitting up, sheets pooling around his waist. He felt restless, raw. He wanted to smash something, run until his lungs tore apart, forget. But every time he blinked, Julian's smirk flashed in his mind. His voice. His goddamn glasses slipping down his nose while he looked at him like he owned him.
"Fuck."
Noah stood, yanking on sweatpants, pacing. He couldn't—he wouldn't—let this spiral. His grandparents, his team, his future—everything was stacked on him. There was no room for obsession, no room for Julian Ainsworth.
And yet.
The harder he tried to bury it, the tighter it coiled inside him.
Julian, meanwhile, had no trouble waking up.
He wasn't a heavy drinker, and he'd gone home early enough with Ethan, slipping into his room before midnight. He sat at his desk now, a cup of tea steaming beside him, textbooks open but completely ignored.
Because his brain refused to move past one thing: Noah Blake's face when he'd dragged him upstairs.
That fury. That desperation. That helplessness he tried so hard to hide.
Julian leaned back in his chair, lips twitching. "So much for untouchable, Blake."
But his chest betrayed him. The way it clenched remembering Noah's eyes dropping to his lips. The way his pulse had hammered like he was the one losing control.
Julian had always been good at watching people, dismantling them piece by piece until nothing was left hidden. But Noah wasn't some puzzle he could take apart. Noah was fire, unpredictable, burning hotter the more he tried to get close.
And Julian wasn't sure if he wanted to play with it… or let himself burn.
By the time Monday morning hit, the halls of Westbrooke High were alive with gossip.
The party had been the biggest of the year so far, and everyone who'd been there—or heard secondhand—had something to say.
"Did you see Blake last night? Dude nearly tore that guy apart."
"Julian Ainsworth of all people caught in the middle? No way."
"Nah, nah, you're exaggerating. Blake doesn't lose control like that."
"Bet you ten bucks he was jealous."
The whispers tangled through lockers and classrooms like wildfire, and both boys felt the weight of it.
Noah slammed his locker shut with more force than necessary, ignoring the curious looks from his teammates clustered nearby. He could feel their eyes. He could hear their smirks.
"Rough night, Blake?" one of them drawled. "Heard you almost decked a guy over—what was it—Ainsworth?"
Noah's glare could've killed, but it only made them laugh harder.
"Relax, man. We're just saying… if you wanted him, you could've just asked."
"Shut the fuck up," Noah snapped, grabbing his books and shoving past them. His pulse was already boiling.
But the worst part? They weren't entirely wrong.
Julian's morning wasn't any better.
He walked into class with Ethan, calm as always, but the shift in attention was impossible to ignore. People turned. Whispered. Watched him with a curiosity that made his skin prickle.
He ignored it, sliding into his seat, pulling out his notebook. But then Chad—the same idiot from the party—slid into the desk behind him with a smirk that made Julian's jaw tighten.
"Guess you've got a bodyguard now, Ainsworth," Chad murmured loud enough to carry. "Didn't know Blake had a thing for you."
Julian didn't look at him. Didn't blink. "Maybe you should worry less about who wants me, and more about why no one wants you."
The class snickered. Chad flushed red, muttering under his breath.
Julian didn't even smile. He was too busy fighting the way his chest pulled at the sound of Noah's name.
It was between third and fourth period that they collided.
Literally.
Noah turned a corner too fast, jaw tight from ignoring his teammates, and smacked shoulders with someone. Books spilled. Papers scattered.
Julian.
Of course it was Julian.
For a second, they both froze. The hallway noise dimmed, students flowing around them, whispers sharp as knives.
Julian bent first, picking up his notebook calmly. "Blake."
Noah's chest heaved. "Ainsworth."
Their hands brushed when they both reached for the same paper. Sparks. Instant, electric. Too much.
Noah pulled back like he'd been burned, shoving the paper at him roughly. "Watch where you're going."
Julian's smile was soft, dangerous. "Maybe you should stop following me around, then."
Noah glared, but his throat was too tight for words. He shoved past, muttering something under his breath.
Julian watched him go, fingers tightening on his notebook. His calm façade never wavered, but inside, his pulse hadn't slowed once.
Lunch was worse.
Noah sat with his teammates, trying to tune out the noise, when he spotted Julian across the room. He was seated with Ethan and a few others, laughing at something. His hand rested casually on the table, and some guy leaned in just a little too close.
Noah's fork snapped in half.
He didn't even realize he'd stood until Tyler elbowed him. "Dude. Chill. You're literally vibrating."
Noah sat back down, but his eyes never left Julian.
Julian, of course, noticed. He always noticed. And he didn't waste the opportunity.
When the guy leaned closer, Julian tilted his head, smiling that soft, infuriating smile. He didn't touch him, but he didn't push him away either.
It was enough.
Noah's fists clenched under the table. His teammates exchanged looks, whispering.
"Blake's gonna pop a vein."
"Bro, just ask him out already."
Noah shoved his tray away and stormed out of the cafeteria before he did something he couldn't take back.
Julian stayed late after class, lingering in the library. He needed the quiet, needed to breathe. But he wasn't surprised when the door slammed an hour later and Noah stormed in, curls messy, eyes blazing.
"You think this is funny?" Noah hissed, stalking closer.
Julian didn't look up from his book. "What is?"
"You know damn well what."
Julian finally raised his eyes, calm and sharp. "You mean existing? Talking to people? Smiling?"
"You're doing it on purpose," Noah spat.
Julian closed the book slowly, standing to face him. They were inches apart, tension thick. "And what if I am?"
Noah's chest rose and fell, his hands twitching at his sides. "Then you better stop."
Julian tilted his head. "Or what?"
The silence crackled. Their breaths mingled. Noah's fists clenched, every muscle screaming to either punch him or kiss him.
Julian's lips curved. "That's what I thought."
He brushed past Noah, shoulder grazing his arm, and left without looking back.
Noah stood there, fists trembling, breath ragged.
He was going to lose his mind.
And Julian was the one holding the match.
That night, Noah lay in bed staring at the ceiling, jaw tight, chest aching. He couldn't get Julian out of his head. Couldn't shake the smirk, the calm voice, the way his lips looked when he said Make me.
Julian, across town, sat at his desk again, pen tapping against his notebook. His heart beat too fast, his hands restless.
He thought about Noah's eyes.
His fury.
His desperation.
Neither of them slept well.
Because the war had only just begun.