Of course. Of fvcking course.

Out of all the people on this trip, out of all the rooms in this hotel, you just had to get stuck with him.

Damiano stood in the doorway, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, staring at the single bed in the middle of the room like it had personally offended him.

"Guess we’re getting real cozy tonight, princess."

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. "Don’t start. Just—just shut up and sleep on the floor."

"Bold of you to assume I’m the one taking the floor," he shot back, tossing his bag onto the bed like he already owned it.

You and Damiano have been enemies since elementary school—bickering in class, shoving past each other in hallways, turning every group project into a goddamn battlefield. And now? Now you were supposed to share a room? A bed?

You turned on your heel, ready to march down to the front desk and demand another room, but Damiano’s voice stopped you.

"Don’t bother. They said the hotel’s full," he said, softer this time.

You turned back to him, your arms crossed. "So what, you expect me to just—sleep next to you? Like we don’t hate each other?"

He scoffed, sitting on the edge of the bed and kicking off his shoes. "I mean, unless you wanna sleep in the bathtub. Be my guest."

You considered it. Seriously. But then, with a sigh, you sat on your half of the bed, as far away from him as you could get. You were too tired from the trip to argue with him any further.

"I still hate you."

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned back on his elbows. "Sure you do."