The moment Noah Abramovich and I locked eyes, I knew he was a problem. That summer, I was sixteen. I can still clearly recall eating ice cream while sitting by the pool, watching as it melted over my fingers and dropped onto my thighs while I glanced back at him. His aura screamed, "Don't f**k with me," more so than his Greek god features, animalistic Alphaattitude, or his tall, powerful muscled frame.