The heat was unbearable. Beads of sweat rolled down my back as I pressed my palms against the wooden door, pushing with all my strength. Nothing.

“You’re wasting your energy,” Andy Shen muttered from the opposite bench, arms crossed over his chest, his tanned skin glistening under the dim sauna light.

I turned and glared at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, do you have a better idea? Or are you just going to sit there looking smug while we cook?”

He smirked, the same irritating smirk I’d known since freshman year. We’d been rivals in everything—class rankings, debate team, even intramural basketball. Andy Shen was the one person who could get under my skin like no one else. And now, thanks to some stupid malfunction at this overpriced spa, we were trapped together in a sauna with no way out.

“You could try not panicking,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow. “That might help.”