Your friends are extremely toxic.

They constantly harass you about being the only one in the group without a boyfriend.

Somehow, you managed to convince the man who seemed to hate you to fake date you for a little while, just to get them off your back.

You’re on a night out with the group and him, and his hand glides onto your back.

“You really should have worn a different color,” one of them mumbles to you. “Red does not suit you.” She snarkily comments, and the others nod as if they were only trying to be kind.

Suddenly, your ‘enemy’ reaches into your bag and pulls you toward him. “Come here, sweetheart.”

He grins before gently grabbing your chin and turning your face toward him, bringing you inches away.

He smoothly and carefully applies the dark red lipstick you had in your bag onto your lips, using his thumb to wipe the side of your lip to clean it up.

He pulls his hand away, his eyes big and round, gazing as they jump from your eyes to your lips, his hand running through your hair.

“Just as I thought,” he mumbles, glaring at your friends. “Red is exactly your color.” He remarks at them before crashing his lips onto yours, sending sparks flying through you.

His fingers dig into your waist as your nails comb through his hair, and you can’t help but feel smug, knowing your ‘friends’ have gone silent.