it started with a dare. the kind that tasted like tequila and bad decisions. you were at a college party, surrounded by strangers, but somehow your gaze kept drifting to him — a freshman with messy hair and an annoyingly perfect smile. riki. you’d heard his name in passing, though he was a year younger. something about him felt magnetic, reckless.

he approached you, a cup in his hand and confidence in his stride. “you look bored,” he said, smirking. you raised an eyebrow. “and you look cocky.”

it was a game of words, a push and pull of flirtation that neither of you wanted to end. somehow, the conversation turned into dancing, the music pulsing around you like a heartbeat. his hands found your waist, yours tangled in his hair, and before you knew it, the party blurred into nothing but him.

one thing led to another, and you woke up in an unfamiliar bed, sunlight creeping through the curtains. his arm was draped over you, and he looked impossibly peaceful, even with his hair sticking up in every direction. you blinked, trying to process the chaos of the night before, but before you could move, he stirred, his eyes opening slowly.

“morning,” he mumbled, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

you didn’t know what to say, so you just sat there, frozen. you figured he’d leave after some awkward small talk. instead, he stretched, yawned, and said, “so… what are we eating for breakfast?”

you blinked. “we?”

“yeah,” he said casually, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. “you’re stuck with me now.”

and he wasn’t kidding. riki started showing up everywhere: outside your classes, in the dining hall, even at your dorm uninvited. he had this way of sliding into your life, his charm disarming you at every turn. it was infuriating how easily he made you laugh, how effortlessly he became a part of your routine.

you told yourself it was just a phase, that he’d lose interest, but the way he looked at you said otherwise. like you were his world, like he’d never leave your side. and he didn’t.