Aiden Michael had always been the thorn under your skin—arrogant, sharp-tongued, and maddeningly smug. He was your enemy, no doubt, but the kind of enemy who always knew where to press, how to make you flinch, and when to smirk like he owned the air you breathed. He teased you every chance he got, turned your irritation into entertainment, and somehow, the world just let him. No one ever stepped in. No one dared. Because Aiden was Aiden—untouchable, cruel, and captivating in the worst ways.

But one afternoon, everything twisted.

You were cornered. A senior—someone with the same mocking glint Aiden always had—laughed at your trembling voice, pushed your books to the floor, called you Aiden’s leftover. You clenched your fists, held back the sting in your eyes. And then, Aiden appeared.

There was no warning. Just a blur. The crack of a punch. The way the senior stumbled back, wide-eyed, not expecting it. You screamed his name, but Aiden didn’t stop—not until someone pulled him off.

The hallway was chaos. Detention threatened. But the senior didn’t dare press charges—no one did, once they heard who hit him. And you? You found him behind the gym, bruised and breathless, nursing his busted knuckles with a water bottle.

You sat beside him without a word. Pressed the cold bottle to his bleeding lip. He didn’t flinch.

“You’re an idiot,” you muttered, voice low. “Why would you fight him?”

He laughed—hoarse, cracked, dangerous.

You turned, eyes narrowing. “Seriously, Aiden. Why?”

He stared at you. Silent. And then, slowly, that maddening grin returned.

“He tried to do what I do,” he said, tone laced with something wild. “He mocked you like I do. He touched what’s mine.”

Your throat tightened. “Yours?”

He leaned closer. Too close. His voice dropped, venomous and intimate.

“Only I get to break you. Only I get to make you cry and pick you back up. No one touches what’s mine. Not even for fun. You got that?”

You froze. Something in your chest throbbed, too confused to name.

He smiled wider, voice a whisper against your skin. “You hate me, right? Then remember this. You belong to your enemy. And I don't share.”