Growing up in California was a whirlwind of sunny days, scraped knees, and laughter that echoed through the streets. But as the years passed, life grew heavier, as if the carefree moments of childhood were slipping through my fingers. Noah and I were inseparable then-and even now, at seventeen, that hasn't changed. Except, everything else has.

When we were kids, our worlds were separated by just a garden shed. Our gardener's old shed had this small door in the back, something my parents probably never noticed. That little door opened directly into Noah's backyard, just a few steps from his room. It became our secret passageway.

I'd sneak through it whenever I wanted to escape the noise of my house, and he'd be there, waiting by his window with a grin, like he always knew I was coming. Sometimes we'd sit on his bedroom floor, eating snacks we weren't supposed to have and talking about everything. Other times, we'd make up games and challenges-like who could jump farther off the swing set or how many times we could bike around the block before dark.

One time, we decided to "fix" my dad's broken lawnmower. Noah brought his dad's old toolbox, and for hours, we poked and prodded at the machine, pretending we knew what we were doing. It never worked again, but my dad just laughed when he saw the mess we'd made. That was Noah-always pulling me into something, always making the ordinary feel like an adventure.

Noah's love for cars wasn't just a phase. When we were little, he'd line up his toy cars and tell me their names and stories, like they were real people. By the time we turned 10, he'd started taking them apart just to see how they worked.

Now, at 17, he's leveled up. The secret garage was Noah's haven. Hidden behind the sprawling vineyard at the edge of his property, it smelled of grease and metal, with a faint hum of music always in the background. I loved the place-it was messy and chaotic, just like Noah. Ha..Ha.. but he is world for me.

I'll sit on a stool while he works, his face focused and his hands covered in grease. "Pass me the wrench," he'll say, and even if I have no idea what I'm doing, I'll hand him whatever tool looks closest to a wrench.

One night, I asked him why he spends so much time in there. He stopped for a moment, leaned against the car, and shrugged. "It's just... mine, you know? No one telling me what to do. Just you and me and the car."

It's where he's happiest, where he doesn't have to be the perfect son or the future heir to his dad's company.

On the other hand, my house was starting to feel like a war zone. Every day, the arguments grew louder. My parents had once been madly in love, or so I thought. Now, the only thing they seemed to share was resentment. I was scared-scared of the inevitable: their divorce.

Noah's house is the opposite-or at least it looks that way. His parents always smile at each other, always have time to sit down for dinner together. But Noah's told me how his dad pressures him constantly, expecting him to follow in his footsteps and take over the family business. Noah doesn't want that. He doesn't even talk about it much, but I can see it in the way he stiffens every time his dad brings it up.

Our lives couldn't be more different, but somehow, we've always found a way to meet in the middle.

My room was a mess of half-finished canvases and tangled strings of fairy lights. Painting was my escape-a way to pour my emotions onto a blank surface. Lately, my work had gotten darker: stormy skies, wilted flowers, fractured glass. I didn't need a therapist to tell me what that meant.

Noah would roll his eyes every time I pulled out my camera, but he'd never actually complain. Once, he drove me two hours to the coast just because I mentioned how perfect the sunset would look over the ocean. By the way, I have his ass pics when he was swimming in swim pool infront of his house. He was 11, I blackmailed him whenever I want. 😂

The door in the gardener's shed had been there forever, we created it when we were just 7 years old and we still use it but sometimes I stuck in middle of it because of my growing obesity. 😭 . It's a small, weathered thing that creaked as I pushed it open. It led straight to Noah's room, a secret passage between our worlds. As kids, we used it to sneak out and play. Now, it was my refuge whenever things got too loud at home.

Noah's confident, a little reckless, and always ready with a sarcastic remark. Meanwhile me quieter, more introspective, and artsy. We've always been opposites-he's the storm to my calm, the fire to my water. But that's what made us work. I needed him to pull me out of my head, and he needed me to keep him grounded. He is naturally athletic and was the star on the schools football team, he won 4 trophies but since last 2 years...he start losing games because of Vanessa Dalgado, I'll introduce her later because I'm jealous of her.

So, guys. Tomorrow is our 1st day at school after summer break and I'm going toning in a party with Noah. Through our secret door I left in his house.

-:At Noah's Room:-

Noah's room was a chaotic mix of gym gear, sneakers, and half-open textbooks. It looked like the aftermath of a tornado that specifically targeted the life of a teenage boy. His clothes fall down everywhere which smelling sweaty. Really bad.

He called it "organzed chaos"; I called it disgusting."

I stepped over a pile of socks, careful not to touch anything questionable. "You know, I'm starting to believe you're running some sort of biohazard experiment in here."

Noah, sprawled on his bed with his phone, smirked. "It's called a 'lived-in aesthetic,' Elle. Look it up."

I rolled my eyes. "Sure. And I'm sure the gym bag rotting in the corner is part of the vibe."

He sat up, throwing a pillow at my head. I dodged it just in time.
"Anyway," he said, brushing off my sarcasm, "what are you wearing to this party? Please tell me it's not another sundress with daisies."

"Ha, ha. At least I don't have to flex a tank top two sizes too small to impress people," I shot back.

"This?" He gestured dramatically to his shirt. "This is just genetics. Can't help it if people are impressed."

"Right," I said, crossing my arms. "I'm sure it has nothing to do with the six-pack you 'accidentally' show off every chance you get."

He grinned. "You notice, huh?"

I threw a sock at him this time. "You're unbearable."

He caught it mid-air and laughed.
"And you love it."

"By the way, I'm thinking that I should have took your naked picture with me, Vanessa will definitely fall in love with your think chubby ass." I teased him.

As we continued bantering, Noah suddenly jumped off the bed, eyes wide. "Wait a second. This isn't just any party, Elle. It's their party."

I raised a brow, already knowing where this was going. "You mean the Flawless, Fiercy, Fabulous Queens?"

At the same time, we shouted in mock excitement: "THE FAB 5!"

For a second, we both froze, staring at each other in exaggerated awe. Then I broke the silence, rolling my eyes again. "Wow, I feel so honored to breathe the same air as our school's royalty." My voice dripped with sarcasm.

Noah smirked. "Careful, Elle. That jealousy is showing."

"Jealous? Of them?" I scoffed, then started listing them off. "Chloe Monroe, the queen bee with a voice like nails on a chalkboard. Sierra Blackwood, who probably spends more time in front of a mirror than any of us combined. Mia, who acts like she's auditioning for a reality show 24/7. Amber Kingsley, the instagrammer selfie. And Ivy Harrington..." I hesitated, my tone shifting slightly, "the bad artist everyone worships for some reason."

Noah tilted his head, catching the change in my tone but choosing not to comment. Instead, he smirked. "You know all their names by heart, huh? But not their true identities... Or saying Not jealous at all."

I ignored.! We made out of Mr.Reed House. Means Noah's house.

I followed Noah down the grand staircase, trying not to trip over my own feet. His house was... well, let's just say it could've been pulled straight out of a movie. Polished marble floors, massive windows that let the California sun flood in, and chandeliers that looked too expensive to even glance at. The walls were lined with modern art pieces that his mom probably bought just because they matched the furniture.

"Can you slow down? Not everyone has gazelle legs," I complained, gripping the railing.

Noah turned, smirking. "Maybe if you didn't wear those clunky sneakers, you'd keep up."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Says the guy who tripped over his own shoelaces last week."

He grinned and opened the front door, motioning for me to follow. "Touché."

The backyard was just as stunning as the interior, if not more. The pool sparkled like a sapphire under the afternoon sun, bordered by sleek lounge chairs and tall palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. A stone path curved around the pool, leading to a small gazebo at the far end, where Noah sometimes worked on his "secret projects."

On our way out, Noah suddenly grabbed my arm. "Hey, one last thing before we go."

"What?" I asked, suspicious.

Before I could react, he pulled me toward the pool in his backyard and jumped in, taking me with him.

The cold water shocked me, and I surfaced, flailing dramatically. "Help! Help! It's burning my skin! The chlorine-Noah, you idiot-I'm allergic!"

He laughed, treading water easily. "Relax, Elle. There's no chlorine in here. I know you're not allergic."

I stopped splashing and blinked at him. "Oh."

He smirked. "How much of that was overacting?"

"All of it," I admitted, pushing wet hair out of my face. "I'm a girl. It's my job."

He burst out laughing, and I splashed him in retaliation.

"Alright, drama queen," he said, swimming toward the edge. "Let's get out before you start melting or something."

We climbed out of the pool, dripping wet, and headed back inside to get ready for the party.

The wrought iron gate creaked open, and the warm California breeze hit my face. I looked back at his house one last time, the kind of place people dream of living in. It was beautiful, sure, but it wasn't what made it feel alive.

"Are you coming tonight?" Noah asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"yes," I said, stepping into the world beyond.