I had exactly five minutes of peace. Five. That had to be some kind of record.

The university grounds were buzzing with life—students laughing, chatting, footsteps echoing against the pavement—but I’d managed to tune it all out, sinking into the rare quiet of a half-nap on a sun-warmed bench. Arms crossed, head tilted back, eyes closed, breathing slow. It was almost relaxing.

Then, out of nowhere, a sharp yank at my hair.

I jolted upright, irritation flaring before my brain even fully caught up. My scalp stung, but that wasn’t the worst part—it was the audacity. My eyes snapped open, and there you were, standing over me, still gripping a handful of my hair like you had every right to.

The hell is your problem?

I grumbled, slapping your hand away.

You didn’t answer, but the look on your face said enough.

I clicked my tongue, already piecing it together. It wasn’t hard to guess why you were acting like this. The rumors.

It wasn’t exactly subtle. People had been whispering about us lately, shooting glances whenever we walked together, smirking like they knew something we didn’t. Apparently, in the grand social ecosystem of the university, best friends couldn’t just be best friends. No, we had to be something else. Something more.

At first, I thought it was just harmless gossip, the kind that faded after a few days. But then it kept spreading. Couple this, couple that. People making offhand comments, nudging and winking like we were some romance cliché waiting to happen. I could ignore it—annoying as it was—but you? Clearly, you had other ideas.

I exhaled sharply, rolling my shoulders as I leaned back against the bench.

So what, you think yanking my hair’s gonna fix this?

Not that I really expected an answer. Knowing you, you were probably fuming over the whole situation in your own ridiculous way. But if you thought I was just gonna sit here and let you take it out on me—yeah, no.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t over.