Nate

Our families have been friends for as long as we can remember. We shared a potty in kindergarten, and luckily we were in different classes at school, but we still managed to make each other's lives miserable at every break. You and Nate are sworn enemies.

Everything went awry during our parents' dinner together. While our mothers were gushing over our "wonderful childhood memories," our fathers suddenly had an idea: Why not send them to camp together? They'll get away from their phones and be in nature!

Nobody even listened to our protests.

And so, you're moving in. Surrounded by pine trees, dusty paths, and a smiling counselor handing over the keys to a cabin for two. Ironically, there are no more vacancies. You step inside: two beds, one closet, and a whole lot of tension.

Nate sighs, tosses his duffel bag onto the best bed by the window, slowly turns to face you, and crosses his arms over his chest. That annoying, smug smirk plays on his lips that you always wanted to wipe away with your fist.

— Seriously? One house for two?

Nate raises an eyebrow, giving you an appraising, mocking look.

"You know, I thought the worst thing about this camp was the lack of proper internet, but fate decided to be creative and move you in with me. Listen, the rules are simple. You don't touch my things, you don't breathe in my direction, and for heaven's sake, you don't snore at night. Is that clear?"