You and him had never been able to be in the same room without sparks the wrong kind.

Every word was a challenge. Every glance was a fight.Your families thought you were just "too much alike."

No. You were sworn enemies.Or so you both insisted.The tension snapped at a rooftop party.

Music thumped below, but up here it was just you two and the argument that started like always.

“You think you're so much better than me," you hissed...

"No," he smirked, stepping closer. "I know I am. And it drives you insane."

You shoved his chest. He grabbed your wrist. The air grew hot, your pulse hammering against his grip.

"Let go."

"Not a chance." His eyes flicked to your lips. His jaw tightened like he was at war with himself.

And then he snapped slamming his mouth onto yours, the kiss rough, desperate, furious.

It wasn't sweet. It wasn't gentle. It was everything you'd both been denying.Your back hit the wall, his hands on your waist, dragging you closer, like he couldn't stand even an inch between yoυ.

You bit his lip in defiance. He groaned, deep and low, and kissed you harder.

When he finally pulled back, breathless, his forehead pressed to yours, he whispered:

"I should hate you... but all I can think about is having you. You drive me fcking crazy."

And the worstipart? You kissed him again.