Four years ago, a 13-year-old blackmailed me into friendship by holding my doughnut captive. We've been best friends ever since.

When my feeling developed into something more—something deeper than the casual jolts of our taunting, I might've... sort of... probably broken my own heart by confessing to him.

Foolish, I know.

Then I fell into the arms of a certain bad boy (literally), and he didn't just save me from what could've been a hell of a concussion—he saved my heart too.

But hey, let's not get crazy. It wasn't that easy. Not even close.

After all, when two opposing worlds clash for the first time, we can't expect it to be all rainbows and sunshine.

Now, do we?