The knock wasn’t polite.

It was sharp, impatient—authority wrapped in knuckles.

“Open up.”

She went rigid. “No. No, no, no—why are they here?”

“Because of you,” he shot back under his breath. “You just had to argue in the hallway—”

“Oh, I had to? You were the one—”

“Shut up,” he snapped. “They’ll hear you.”

Another knock. Louder. “I know you’re in there.”

They locked eyes.

Mutual hatred. Mutual panic.

“Closet,” he said.

“Too obvious.”

“Window?”

“We’re on the third floor, genius!”

The handle rattled.

“Then what?” he demanded, voice cracking just slightly.

Her gaze flicked to the bed.

His followed.

“No,” they said at the same time.

The handle jerked harder.

“Open the door, or I will.”

“Get in,” she said.

“I’m not getting in bed with you.”

“Then get expelled,” she shot back. “Your choice.”

That decided it.

He moved first, kicking off his shoes, scrambling onto the mattress like it personally offended him. She followed half a second later, yanking the blanket up and nearly smacking him in the face with it.

“Don’t touch me,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry, I’d rather die.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

The door latch clicked.

“Closer,” she whispered urgently.

“I’m not—”

“Closer or this doesn’t work!”

He exhaled sharply and shifted—too stiff, too deliberate—until their sides pressed together. It was unbearable. Heat through fabric. Every point of contact screaming.

“Relax,” she hissed.

“I am relaxed.”

“You feel like a corpse.”

“Better than feeling like this.”

“What is that supposed to mean—”

The door creaked open.

They froze.

“Seriously?” the voice said. “At this hour?”

She reacted first, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and dragging him the last inch closer, tucking her face into his shoulder. Not gentle. Not soft. Desperate.

He sucked in a breath as her knee knocked against his, their legs tangling in a way that felt way too real for something fake.

“Mm—” she mumbled, convincingly groggy.

He forced his arm around her. It landed awkwardly at first, then tightened when he felt how tense she actually was. Not acting. Not entirely.

“Sorry,” he muttered, voice rough with fake sleep. “Didn’t—know anyone would—”

“Yeah, yeah,” the voice said quickly. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

A pause. A shift of weight.

“Keep it down next time.”

The door shut.

Silence slammed back into the room.

Neither of them moved.

Her grip on his shirt didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened. His arm was still around her, hand pressed flat against her back, like letting go would make too much noise.

“You can move,” he said finally, low.