The bar near campus was chaos—your friends and his jammed together around two tables shoved into one. You sat across from him, like always. He lounged back as if the place belonged to him, arm draped over his chair, gaze cutting to you whenever he thought you weren’t paying attention. You answered with deliberate disinterest. Enemies, after all.

The games started. Spin the bottle. Truths stayed tame. Dares didn’t. When the bottle landed on him, he didn’t even consider the alternative. Dare. Grins spread fast. Someone’s eyes slid to you—too deliberate—as they dared him to take a body shot off you.

Your pulse jumped, heat crawling up your neck. You looked at him, bracing for smugness or a cruel remark. Instead, his expression sharpened. One brow lifted.

He rose slowly and crossed the space between you, unhurried. He stopped close, looming just enough, his eyes tracing you head to toe.

“This okay with you, or are you gonna slap me when I try?”