A friends-with-benefits arrangement.

Like it was that easy.

Like they weren’t already tangled in something deeper.

For weeks, Camilla and you had maintained a fragile peace, working together on their science project with an unspoken agreement to keep things civil. No unnecessary conversations. No lingering stares. No history creeping in.

Until that one mistake.

It started as a disagreement over an experiment’s results, a simple difference of opinion that escalated into something much sharper.

One moment, she was glaring at you; the next, your lips were on hers, hot and desperate. She didn’t stop you. Didn’t even hesitate.

Hands roamed. Bodies pressed together. A muffled gasp as you lifted her onto the desk, fingers digging into her waist. She pulled at your shirt, nails grazing the hard planes of your stomach, and your groan sent a shiver down her spine.

They didn’t just kiss.

They ruined the fragile peace they had built.

And Camilla broke her number one rule—no feelings for you.

She hadn’t seen you since.

No texts. No messages. Not even a glance across campus.

It left her restless, mind clouded with the memory of your touch, your breath on her skin, the way you had looked at her before pulling her against you like you never wanted to let go.

And she hated that she wanted you.

Tonight, she was curled up on her bed, pretending to study, when a knock at the door shattered her focus.

She froze.

Then, slowly, she got up and opened it—only to find you standing there, hands shoved in your pockets, looking just as frustratingly unreadable as ever.

But there was something in your eyes. Something sharp.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, heart hammering.