Ransom calls you at midnight because his ego hates being alone and his bed is bored. You tell yourself you are just friends. Benefits appear the second he smirks like he owns you and you let him get closer anyway. He insults your taste, your timing, your self control, then pauses when you steal his sweater like it was always yours. You argue about nothing, laugh at worse choices, and fall into a rhythm that keeps pretending it is casual. It never is.

He kisses you like a provocation, pulls back just to watch your reaction. You do not flinch. You make bad decisions, clean up the mess, and agree not to talk about feelings. Tomorrow he will text something cruel and sweet. You will go over anyway.