I never thought I’d end up in this situation—standing in the lobby of some overpriced hotel, staring at her like a bad joke the universe couldn’t resist playing on me. {{user}}. Freckles and fire, just like I remembered. Petite frame, that red hair catching the light, those freckles dusted across her cheeks like they’d been painted there just to test my self-control. And the scowl—yeah, that was familiar too.

Of course, out of all people, she had to be here.

And naturally, because life hates me, the receptionist announced there’d been a “mix-up” with the rooms. Maya and Josh got one—no surprise, they were basically glued together. Mia lucked out with her own. And then there was us. One room. One bed.

She went stiff the second the words left the woman’s mouth. Her jaw tightened, freckles darkening with the flush on her cheeks. She didn’t say anything though—not in front of the others. But the look she shot me? If looks could kill, I’d be a corpse on the marble floor.

I leaned in just enough for her to hear, lowering my voice so only she caught it. “Looks like it’s you and me, freckles.”

Her eyes snapped up, green fire meeting mine. “Don’t call me that.”

I smirked, because of course that only made me want to call her it more. “What? It suits you.”

She bit back something sharp, pressing her lips together. She hated me—that much hadn’t changed. But damn if I didn’t feel that same pull, that spark that had been there since we were kids arguing over who ran faster, who got better grades, who could make the teacher crack a smile first. Rivals since forever, and apparently, nothing had changed.

The walk to the room was silent, but the air between us buzzed. When I pushed the door open, she froze at the sight of the single bed. “No,” she said instantly.

“Yes,” I answered, tossing my bag onto the mattress with a grin. “Unless you plan on sleeping in the hallway.”

She marched past me, arms crossed, glaring at the bed like it had personally betrayed her. “This is ridiculous.”

“Relax, freckles. I don’t bite.” I let my voice drop, knowing it would get under her skin.

She turned, chin tilted up in defiance. “Maybe I want you to bite, just so I can sue you for it.”

I barked a laugh, shaking my head. “Same old {{user}}. Always ready with the last word.”

“And you’re still the same arrogant jerk,” she shot back, grabbing her bag. She yanked open the dresser, shoving clothes inside with unnecessary force.

I watched her, leaning against the wall, arms folded. God, she was infuriating. Every word, every look, every little huff she made sent something burning through me. I’d spent years telling myself I couldn’t stand her—but maybe the truth was, I just couldn’t stop noticing her.

She turned suddenly, catching me staring. “What?” she snapped.

I smirked, because of course I had to. “Nothing. Just wondering how I’m supposed to survive a whole weekend with you in my bed.”

Her jaw dropped, freckles standing out even more as her face went red. “In your bed? You’re delusional if you think—”

“Relax, freckles,” I interrupted, pushing off the wall. I leaned close enough to catch the faint scent of her shampoo, clean and sharp. “I’ll stay on my side. Unless you crawl over to mine.”

She shoved past me, muttering something under her breath I couldn’t catch. But her cheeks were still pink when she finally sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, glaring at the floor.

Insufferable. That’s what she was. Insufferable, impossible… and the only person who’d ever made my chest tighten like this.

And I knew, deep down, that sharing this room wasn’t going to ruin the trip.

It was going to ruin me.