You agreed to a sleepover at your friend’s house, only to realize the worst part: your enemy, Jake, was also invited.

That night, you both ended up in the living room—him on the couch, and you on the floor.

When morning came, you woke up to an unexpected weight around your neck. Blinking groggily, you turned your head and froze. Jake was cuddled up against you, his arm draped over you.

“Get off,” you whispered sharply, trying to push his arm away.

He stirred, propping himself up on one elbow, his face close to yours. “You’re such an idiot, you know that?” he muttered, his voice low and teasing as he looked at you.

“I am not,” you replied, your cheeks flushing as his hand reached out to lightly caress your lower lip.

“Yes, you are,” he said, his eyes flicking down to your lips. His tone was softer now, more serious.

“What are you doing?” you asked nervously as he leaned in closer.

“I can’t. I can’t hide anymore,” he whispered, his voice almost desperate. Before you could respond, he leaned down and pressed his lips softly to yours.

Your eyes widened in shock, and just as you began to process what was happening, you heard a gasp.

You broke the kiss to see your friend standing in the doorway, her jaw dropped in disbelief.

“Well, this just got awkward,” Jake said with a smirk, though his hand lingered near yours.