Outside the VIP lounge, I saw them.

Caleb was holding Evelyn, wrapped in an embrace so tight it looked like they’d never let go.

The sight didn’t sting me.

Not then, not now.

Leo followed me out.

“Mia, I’m warning you, don’t you dare try to get between them right now.”

When I didn’t respond, his voice took on an angry edge.

“You were never one of us.”

He was right.

They had always looked down on me.

For five years, I was Caleb’s backup plan, coming whenever he called like a lost puppy.

Just then, Caleb noticed us, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes.

But my gaze went past him, to the figure under the streetlight a little ways down the road.

A boy on a bicycle, pulling up to the curb.

Leo must have seen the tears welling up in my eyes, because his voice softened a little.

“Look, I gotta give you credit for sticking it out this long.”

“Just walk away now, Mia.”

“Don’t make this harder for anyone.”

I took a step forward, and Leo grabbed my arm.

“What the hell are you doing, Mia?” he snapped.

I violently shook his hand off, my eyes turning cold as I stared at him.

“You’re in his way.”

Leo froze, clearly shocked by the ice in my voice.

To him, I’d always been as harmless as a bunny.

I didn’t spare him another glance.

I just kept moving forward, my pace quickening to a run, the pain in my stomach forgotten.

If I was going to see you, I would always, always run.

I ran right past Caleb and threw myself into Noah’s arms.

His embrace was just as I remembered it.

It smelled like oranges after a rainstorm, with a faint, clean scent of antiseptic underneath.

Tears soaked into the front of his shirt.

“Noah,” I sobbed.

“Noah.”

My mind flashed back ten years.

Freshman year of high school.

Noah was sixteen.

I was fifteen, and he was my new desk partner.

We were the two who constantly battled for first and second place in our class, which of course made us the school’s “It Couple” in the gossip mill.

When I found out, I was so annoyed that I went and did his entire AP practice exam for him.

The next day, Noah held up the completed packet, tugging on my sleeve.

“So this is why you did a whole week’s worth of my homework?”

I glared up at him, which wasn't very intimidating since I was barely five feet tall.

“So what if I did?”

“I’ll buy you a new one, big deal!”

He actually laughed, a real, honest-to-god laugh.

“Is being shipped with me really that horrible?”

I fell silent.

Then, with that thirty-seven-degree mouth of his, Noah said something that made me want the ground to swallow me whole.

“You, who thinks the quadratic formula is a type of pasta, what makes you think I’d ever be interested in a relationship with you?”

He was bringing up my lowest moment, the time I had a fever so bad I barely filled in any bubbles on the Scantron sheet.

My eyes narrowed.

“And you, who probably thinks Shakespeare is a type of pear, what makes you think I’d ever want to be a ‘CP’ with you?”

It was on.

The next day, our homeroom teacher called us into her office.

“So, this is why half the sophomore class is having a mental breakdown?”

Apparently, after our little spat, Noah and I had kicked our academic rivalry into an arms race.

We were studying at ten times our normal speed, basically making everyone else in our grade feel like complete failures.

A few had even called their parents crying, wanting to go home.

Our teacher pinched the bridge of her nose, looking at the sparks flying between us.

“If you two have this much energy to burn, you can channel it into performing a skit for the winter talent show.”

The sparks between me and Noah practically burst into flames.