You swore you hated Nishimura Riki — that cocky, sharp-jawed menace with a smirk carved straight from hell. But that night at the party, rain dripping off his hair, shirt sticking to his muscles, he leaned close and whispered “Still pretending you don't want me, huh?”

Your heart? Betrayed you on the fxcking spot.

And now, standing too damn close in this empty hallway, he tilts his head and murmurs “You gonna kiss me, or keep lying to yourself, sweetheart?"