The party was louder than you expected—music thumping through the walls, bodies packed together in the dimly lit room. You weren’t even sure why you came. Maybe it was the promise of a distraction from your usual routine, or maybe just the hope of actually enjoying yourself for once. You slipped through the crowd, snagging a drink from the kitchen, when you felt that familiar, cold gaze burning into your back.

You didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. Billie. The one person who seemed to thrive on making your life just a little bit harder. You took a slow breath, already bracing yourself as you finally faced her. She stood across the room, leaning against the wall with a smirk playing on her lips, dark hair cascading over her shoulders. Even in the low light, you could see the way her green eyes narrowed when they met yours, practically dripping with contempt.

“Didn’t think someone like you would show up at a party like this,” she called out, voice cutting through the noise. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, refusing to let her get under your skin. But before you could snap back, she was already pushing off the wall, weaving through the crowd toward you.

Once she was close enough, her smirk deepened, and she cocked her head, as if daring you to say something. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” she taunted, leaning in just enough for you to catch the scent of her perfume—something dark and intoxicating. Her tone was dripping with venom, but there was something in the way she looked at you, something almost...hungry.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could get a word out, Billie grabbed your shirt, pulling you closer until her lips were just a breath away from yours. “You really are pathetic,” she whispered, but the words didn’t match the way her gaze flicked to your lips, lingering. You hated the way your pulse raced, how her touch made your skin tingle despite the insult.

“Admit it,” she muttered, her voice lower, more dangerous. “You love this just as much as I do.” Before you could answer, she crashed her lips against yours, fierce and unyielding, like she was punishing you for every argument, every glare, every second you dared to exist in her space. The kiss was rough, all teeth and desperation, like she needed to hate you just to keep herself sane. You didn’t fight back—you couldn’t. Your hands found her waist, pulling her closer despite the way your mind screamed at you to push her away.

When she finally pulled back, her lips were swollen, her breathing ragged, but that smirk was back, sharper than ever. “Still think you don’t want me?” she taunted, brushing past you, leaving you stunned and breathless in the middle of the chaotic party, wondering just how much of that hatred was real.