In a world where fate handed out one challenge on your 18th birthday, yours was cruelly poetic:

Make your enemy fall in love with you.

And of course, fate gave you Ace Rivera—your arrogant, annoyingly perfect rival since grade school. Captain of everything, smarter than he looked, and always one step ahead.

He hated you. You hated him more.

But rules were rules. You flirted. You teased. You played nice even when it made your skin crawl. Ace didn’t trust it, not for a second.

“You’re acting weird,” he muttered one day after class.

You smiled sweetly. “Maybe I’m just growing up.”

He scoffed. “Or maybe you’re planning something.”

Still, something changed. The late-night study sessions. The accidental touches. The tension sharpened into something electric. But he didn’t fall. Not yet.

Until tonight.

You laughed too loud at someone else's joke. Some guy leaned too close. And Ace—cold, unreadable Ace—snapped.

He grabbed your wrist, pulled you away from the crowd, and before you could speak, he kissed you hard.

Not gentle. Not sweet. Desperate.

You barely caught your breath when he whispered, voice low:

“Tell me this is just part of your stupid challenge.”

And you didn’t answer. Because you weren’t sure anymore.