We walk toward Ivy's room, pictures of her hanging in the upstairs hallway. "Is that from the spelling bee?" I laugh, looking at how ridiculously different we look. You could tell puberty had hit me, and not in a good way.

"Yeah, and I won that round. See, you were in second place," she points to me, smirking.

"I don't know...I remember winning the final though. Eighth grade?" She shrugs, but I know she remembers it too.

"I'm gonna win today, Aaron, and you'll eat my dust." She sits beside me on the chair, her mouth pursed and eyebrows furrowed. I laugh.

"You couldn't spell antidisestablishmentarianism if it hit you in the face."

"Can too!"

"Can not." She rolls her eyes, and I roll mine back, laughing. I liked fighting with her a little more than I'd like to admit.

"And you completely blanked," I laugh, almost the same as I did that day. She starts to walk further away and into her room. "What? You have to admit it's kinda funny...The way you ran off, and how my 13-year-old self bothered you for the rest of the day."

"Yeah, you were fucking unbearable," she rolls her eyes, plopping herself onto the bed, and lying down. I stare at the place–pink walls, and a globe sitting on her desk. All of her medals are hung on one of the walls. I can tell this is where highschool-Ivy resided. Even the smell is the same. Sweet, but it has a tang to it that you would never initially expect.

"Your bed's a little small for both of us..." I state, walking toward her, technically in my arch nemesis' room.

"And who said you're sleeping here?"

"I did." I put my hands on either side of her bed, trapping her between my body, and she laughs, her legs wrapping around my hips, and bringing me closer.

"Our highschool selves wouldn't approve of this, Kristensen." Fuck, say that again, please...

"Would they approve of..." I run my hand along her outer thigh. "...this?" I trail it up further painfully slowly. She shakes her head, her eyes glued to what I'm doing. "Mm..." I go towards her inner thigh, goosebumps rising at the touch. I study her face as she studies mine, our faces close-so close. I want to kiss her, but I don't. I can't. I think I just want to stare at her forever. I think I only exist for that reason.

As if reading my thoughts, her cheeks go flush, and when she tries to move her face away from mine, I pull it back. "What?" I tug at her hair, smiling. "Do I make you nervous, Blake?

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