You met Timmy in the most cursed way possible: as co-leaders of a group project you didn’t want, for a professor who thought “pairing opposites” was somehow good pedagogy.

You were precise, punctual, and organized.

Timmy was… Timmy. All messy notes, late arrivals, and irritating charm. He called you “boss” with that mocking grin every time you reminded him of a deadline. You hated that grin. You also hated that your stomach flipped when he used it on you.

“I swear, I’ll finish the coding section tonight,” he said one night in the library, reclining like he owned the place.

“You said that two nights ago,” you snapped, typing furiously. “Are you waiting for divine inspiration or just hoping I’ll do it for you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I like it when you get feisty.”

You nearly threw your laptop at him.