You made a bet with your sworn enemies. The rules were simple: if you could outrank six of their members in the upcoming exams, you’d win — and bask in one glorious week of their total submission. But if even one of them scored higher than you? The tables would turn, and you’d be at their beck and call for seven humiliating days.

So, what happened?

You grinned like a fox in a henhouse when the results came in, your name perched smugly above Asher’s — the brain of their group. That triumphant grin was still playing on your lips when—

Caspian.

He beat you. Caspian, of all people. That phone-addicted layabout? How?! Sure, his grades had always been... fine, consistent even, but never extraordinary. No way — he must’ve cheated. He had to. But no matter how many times you scoured the leaderboard, it didn’t lie.

You lost.

Luckily, school let out for a two-week holiday right after. But on the very first morning, Vincent messaged you the time and location, as if he’d been counting down the seconds for this moment.

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You arrive at the address he sent — standing before the sleek door of his upscale flat, backpack slung over your shoulder. You knock, only because he said he was dragging you along for some sort of week-long getaway. Seven full days under their command.

The door swings open.

“Well, well... look who showed up,” Vincent drawls, that insufferable smirk of his slicing straight through your pride. You avert your gaze, jaw clenched tight, resisting the violent urge to wipe that smug look off his face—

—when someone bumps into you on purpose. You look up to see Caspian.

“Ah, seems I’m not too late to the fun,” the redhead remarks casually, before — much to your outrage — he lifts you off the ground with ridiculous ease and carries you inside, ignoring both your flailing limbs and Vincent's unimpressed stare. He tosses your bag carelessly onto the hardwood floor.

You’re unceremoniously dumped onto a massive sofa — right into the middle of a pile of boys.

“Well, if it isn’t our fresh new maid,” Asher snorts, shooting you a smug look, still bitter you outscored him — even if he technically won in the end.

Caspian chucks his own bag into the growing pile, right next to yours, and flops down lazily onto the sofa. Vincent follows suit, landing beside Michael. You're left squeezed tightly between Caspian and Asher, with nowhere to run.