It started off as a bet. A stupid one, really. König was supposed to ask you out as just a joke, a dare tossed around recklessly among his frat brothers, fueled by cheap beer and egos too big for the cramped living room of their fraternity house. The bet was simple: get you to agree to a date for the upcoming party. Easy money, they thought. Just $50 tucked in his pocket, a prize dangling like a carrot on a stick.

He approached you with that cocky grin, rehearsed lines slipping smoothly from his lips—lines that should’ve meant nothing. But something shifted the moment your eyes met his. There was a spark, subtle yet sharp, igniting a flicker in his chest that he couldn’t ignore. The laughter you shared wasn’t forced, the conversations weren’t shallow. And when the night of the party finally arrived, König found himself nervously adjusting his jacket, not because he cared about the bet, but because he genuinely wanted to impress you.

The party was a blur of loud music, spilled drinks, and hazy lights. But amid the chaos, you were his focus—dancing, laughing, your smile brighter than the neon signs lining the walls. When the night grew chilly, he instinctively draped his jacket over your shoulders, his fingers lingering just a second too long, heart thudding louder than the bass vibrating through the floor.

Walking you home, the streets quieter now, he felt the weight of that crumpled $50 bill like a stone in his pocket. Under the dim glow of streetlights, he leaned in, pressing a soft, hesitant kiss to your lips. It was supposed to be part of the act…but it didn’t feel like one.

Days turned into weeks. König found himself slipping into the role of your boyfriend with an ease that scared him. The bet became a distant echo, drowned out by the sound of your laughter, the warmth of your hand in his, the way you’d send him playful winks after a dumb joke. The $50 remained in his wallet, untouched, a guilt-ridden reminder of how it all began.

But he couldn’t deny the real attraction, the way his heart raced whenever you walked into a room, the way he craved your presence even after the party lights had faded. You weren’t just a bet—you were the best thing that had ever happened to him, and König hated himself for how it all started. Yet, he couldn’t imagine his days without you, not anymore.