In his second year at university, Cameron is focused on keeping his grades up, hanging out with his friends, and avoiding unnecessary drama. A football jock and a math major, Camron has struggled in his life to reach here. He met his total opposite, Evans Blake. Evans is everything Cameroon isn't: rich trust fund baby, and fiercely competitive. Evans is constantly in the spotlight, with a spotless academic record to match his athletic prowess. But he’s also sharp-tongued, and Cameroon's carefree attitude rubs him the wrong way from the start. A chance run-in during a heated debate in philosophy class spirals into an all-out rivalry between the two. Forced into a group project together, their mutual annoyance escalates. But underneath the tension, both Cameroon and Evans start noticing each other in ways they hadn't expected. As they spend more time together—both in class and after a wild night that leads to a surprising kiss—their animosity begins to blur into something else entirely.
View MoreEvansI sat quietly at the dinner table, trying not to look too interested in the conversation swirling around me. Across from me, my father, Arthur Blake, held court, talking business with the energy he saved for family dinners, as if even our time together had to be a matter of strategic value. My mother, Elora, sat beside him. And right next to me, my twin brother, Ryan, soaked up Dad’s attention like he was basking in the sun, his smile wide, his posture attentive—exactly the way Dad liked it.I was used to this dynamic by now, and yet it always managed to sting. Tonight, it seemed to sting even more than usual. The way Dad beamed at Ryan, discussing business acquisitions and his next steps in the company, only highlighted how absent I was from his plans.“Ryan,” Dad said, leaning forward slightly, a rare gleam of pride in his eyes. “There’s a couple of new proposals I want you to review. Make sure they align with our expansion strategy. I think they could be an opportunity for yo
I walked into my dorm room and, as expected, found Dexter and Trixie tangled up on the couch, looking like they’d just stepped out of a romance. They were practically fused together—Dexter’s arm around her waist, their lips stuck together. Dexter and Trixie were high school sweethearts and madly in love with each other.I sighed dramatically, tossing my keys onto the counter. “Don’t let me interrupt, lovebirds. Just pretend I’m invisible. Keep ignoring me like you usually do.”Dexter barely glanced up, his attention still locked on Trixie as he muttered, “We do that all the time anyway.”Trixie, however, was less inclined to let me sulk. She untangled herself from Dexter’s grip and bounced up, her face all concern and curiosity. “Camron, wait, what’s going on? You look like someone stole your dessert.”I flopped onto my bed with a groan, covering my face with my hands. “Jake broke up with me.”“Oh, no!” Trixie gasped, plopping herself down on the edge of my bed. “That idiot! What happ
“What are you doing here?” I blurted out, still reeling from Jake’s abrupt breakup.Evans finally looked at me, pulling out a cigarette from his jacket pocket. "Do you have a lighter?" he asked, ignoring my question entirely.I blinked. "You don't even smoke."He shrugged, lighting the cigarette with a gold lighter I didn’t know he had. “Guess there’s a first time for everything.”I wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or genuine. With Evans, it was always hard to tell.We stood there in an awkward silence, the smoke from his cigarette curling lazily in the cool night air. I didn’t know why he was here, and frankly, I didn’t care. My mind was still spinning from Jake’s words—how things were ‘fine,’ how he wasn’t the right one for me. How it was over.'I exhaled, my breath visible in the crisp air. "Why are you really here, Evans?"He glanced at me, and for the first time, his usual arrogant smirk was gone. Instead, there was something quieter in his eyes. “I saw you walk out of the b
The neon lights outside the bar flickered like they always did, casting a hazy glow on the pavement as I made my way to the entrance. I had been looking forward to this all day—a night out with Jake in the same bar where we first met. The place had become kind of "our spot.".I scanned the bar and saw Jake, as usual, behind it. He was wearing that grin, the one that could light up a room even in a place where every corner was filled with noise and flashing lights. But something felt... off. He wasn't working the crowd like usual, wasn't leaning in to hear the regulars' stories or laughing at someone’s joke. He looked distant.I weaved through the crowd and made my way to the bar, throwing him a casual wave as I got closer. "Hey, you!"Jake looked up, and I swear his smile faltered for a split second before it returned—less bright, more polite.“Hey,” he said, his voice a little too casual. He glanced around nervously, wiping down the counter. “Can we, uh, talk for a second?”My stomac
The morning sun was way too bright, and my brain was still swimming in a hazy fog thanks to the brilliant idea of participating in last night’s drinking game.I groaned, glancing at my phone. 10:15 AM. Great. I had a class in exactly five minutes, and I wasn’t even out of bed yet. Philosophy. Perfect. The only thing worse than trying to understand the meaning of life with a hangover was doing it in front of Professor Daniel, who loved to call on students at their most vulnerable moments.I scrambled out of bed, throwing on the first semi-clean outfit I could find. No time for coffee. Not even time for dignity.I burst into the lecture hall like a bat out of cave, hoping, praying, and begging the universe that Evans wouldn’t be there. Surely, the golden boy of this campus would have better things to do than make it to this class. Like, maybe he had to sleep in after last night’s game too, right?Nope. There he was. Sitting in the front row, all polished and immaculate, not a single hai
I narrowed my eyes, swirling the beer in my hand. “Still convinced that being able to quote The Art of War makes you interesting?”The people around us shifted awkwardly, sensing the brewing storm. Evans grinned, that smug smile that made my fist itch to wipe it off his face. “I’m just saying quoting strategy books is a little more useful than knowing how to throw a ball.”"Useful?" I barked out a laugh. "Yeah, nothing says 'life skills' like being able to ruin a party with strategic discourse."“You know,” Evans said, tilting his head, “I bet you couldn’t even keep up in a real competition. I’ve got stamina for days.”“Stamina, huh? You couldn’t handle a jog, let alone a real test of endurance.”One of our friends interrupted with a grin. “Why don’t you two settle this with a good old-fashioned drinking match?”The crowd perked up at this. What started as a petty exchange had turned into a public spectacle. I couldn’t back down now. Not in front of everyone. Especially not in front o
The party was already in full swing when I arrived—a perfect mix of too loud, too crowded, and somehow still tolerable because I knew most of the faces. It was one of those gatherings where you could barely take a step without running into someone you knew from class or sports or the local café down the street. But as was always the case at these gatherings, the people you couldn’t stand also showed up.And of all the people I couldn’t stand, Evans Blake was at the very top of my list.I spotted him the second I walked in. Tall, bespectacled, and every bit as infuriating as he was during our university debates. He stood by the bar, gesticulating wildly to a group of people who were all nodding along to whatever self-important crap he was spewing. God, I hated him.It wasn’t just that we were on the debate team together and that we were constantly butting heads. Evans had a knack to argue about everything. And by "everything," I mean everything—from the theory of utilitarianism to whic
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