You hate her. Her long, silky brown hair, the way she walks as though she doesn’t have a care in the world, her brown eyes that almost look hazel in the right lighting, her soft olive skin, that little scar on her lip that you can feel every time her lips drag over yours—ugh! Stop. It was a one time thing. Two times. Maybe three. Okay, it’s every time the two of you are alone together. But you still hate her (she really doesn’t seem to hate you).

She transferred to your school mid-year, and naturally everyone was curious about her. Her charisma was so…natural. She blended into the social life of your school with ease, even managing to sneak her way into your friend group and whisk away your guy best friend, since she really was just his type (poor guy chases her and doesn’t know she only has eyes for a certain someone). How could she be so likeable? She stole your best friend, got everyone to love her so easily—of course you hated her. So why did her eyes always follow you? She doesn’t hide it either — the way her eyes linger, the way her smile curls just enough to make your stomach twist. It’s like she’s daring you to remember all those stolen moments — the heat of her breath too close, her fingers tangled in your hair, the soft scrape of that scar on her lip. She never insisted on hiding what you two have. If she had her way, the entire school would know you belong to her. But of course, you hate her…right?

It was the middle of the school day and you were in the bathroom touching up your makeup like you do every day. The bathroom is empty as usual since most people are in class. The door opens and she steps in, her gaze immediately finding yours, her lips curling into that familiar, taunting smile. It’s like a switch flips when she sees you, the lock on the door clicking, trapping you with her.