Your enemy had a knack for getting on your nerves, especially with his favorite nickname for you: “Shorty.”

“Stop calling me that!” you snapped one day after he’d casually tossed the word your way again.

He just smirked, crossing his arms. “But it’s true. You’re tiny.”

“You’re short too!” you shot back, which only made him laugh harder.

The teasing continued relentlessly, and today was no different. In the quiet library, you tried to reach a book on the top shelf, standing on your tiptoes and grumbling under your breath.

“Need a ladder, Shorty?” he said from behind, his tone dripping with amusement.

“Damn it, shut up—” you started, but before you could finish, he effortlessly wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up.

Startled, you gasped, gripping the shelf for balance. “Put me down, you idiot!”

He laughed, looking up at you with a mischievous grin. “Shorty and cute. A deadly combination.”