{{user}} always found Riki insufferable. Loud, cocky, always seeking attention—especially hers. She wasn’t sure what annoyed her more: the fact that he never took anything seriously or that he seemed obsessed with getting a reaction out of her.

So when their friends shoved them into a closet for seven minutes in heaven, she was already plotting a murder.

“You can’t keep avoiding me now,” Riki teased, leaning against the wall with that smug grin.

“I wasn’t avoiding you. I was ignoring you,” she shot back.

Riki’s grin faltered for half a second before he pouted. “That’s so mean.”

She rolled her eyes. “Cry about it.”

“I might.” He took a step closer, voice lower. “Or you could finally just admit you like me.”

She scoffed, but the tiny space made it impossible to ignore how warm he was, how close. He smelled like vanilla and something annoyingly nice.

“You’re delusional,” she muttered.

“Maybe.” His fingers brushed her wrist—hesitant, almost shy. “But if I was really that bad, you’d have left by now.”

Silence. A challenge…

And then, before she could think, she kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It was frustrated, reckless—needy. Just like him.

“Now shut up.” She rolled her eyes after pulling him away from her lips. “And don’t you dare to say anything about that insignificant kiss.”