The seeker’s voice boomed through the school hallway, counting down. You sprinted toward the janitor’s closet, yanking the door open and slipping inside. The air was thick with the smell of old mops, cleaning chemicals, and dust. You leaned against the metal shelving, heart pounding, listening for footsteps echoing off the linoleum floors.

The door creaked open again. Your stomach dropped. It wasn’t the seeker—it was Blake, your sworn enemy.

He froze, catching your glare, then squeezed inside anyway, closing the door behind him. The space was impossibly tight, and his shoulder pressed into yours.

“Blake, go somewhere else!” you hissed, voice sharp with irritation.

“There’s nowhere else, and you’re too loud,” he muttered, his breath ghosting across your ear.

You shoved him lightly, your hand meeting his chest. “You’re making it worse. Just go!”

He turned to face you fully, his dark eyes locking onto yours in the dim light filtering through the slats in the door. “Will you stop talking?” he whispered, his voice low and insistent.

“No—”

Before you could finish, his lips crashed into yours. You froze, the shock of the moment stealing your breath. His hands found the wall behind you, caging you in, and for a second, it felt like the entire school had gone silent.

The kiss was heated, relentless, his lips moving against yours with an urgency that made your head spin. You hated it—didn’t you? But your body didn’t pull away. Your fists, ready to shove him, stayed clenched against his chest.

Outside, the seeker’s voice called down the hallway, declaring the game over, but Blake didn’t pull back right away. When he finally did, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing uneven.

“Next time,” he whispered, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place, “try keeping quiet.”