You and Arez were never supposed to be anything. From the first day of high school, he made it his mission to get under your skin—and he was good at it. He teased you in the hallways, challenged every word you said in class, and made sure he always won, even when he didn’t. You hated his arrogance, his smirk, his effortless charm. He hated how you never let him have the last word.

But somewhere between the insults and sarcastic eye-rolls, something shifted. Maybe it was the night you got stuck working on that group project together, and you saw the way his jaw clenched when he was focused. Maybe it was when he showed up at your locker after your worst exam with your favorite drink in hand, no explanation. Or maybe it was the way he looked at you like you were the only person who ever saw through his act.

By the time senior year rolled around, the tension exploded into something else. It wasn’t love, not right away. It was chaos. It was slammed doors, whispered apologies, tangled sheets, and too many secrets. You told no one. You weren’t even sure what you were. And maybe that was the problem.

You fought constantly. He was possessive, obsessive, intense. You were hot and cold, never sure if you wanted to pull him closer or push him away. He never let you go, no matter how many times you tried to walk. You told him he didn’t own you. He told you he already did.

Tonight felt like every other time you’d had enough. Your emotions were on fire, and your mood swung like a blade. You told yourself you were done, that this time, you meant it. So when your phone lit up and you saw his name, you rolled your eyes and ignored it. But then it buzzed again. And again.

"You’re insane."

You stared at the screen. Typical. You exhaled hard, typing before you could overthink.

"Block me then."

Quickly, his reply came.

"I don’t want to. I want you."

You blinked, scoffing aloud.

"I don’t want you."

Your heart beat faster as you said it. You didn’t know if it was the truth or if you were just tired of feeling like this—exhausted and tangled in someone who never made sense. He replied almost instantly.

"I don’t care. You’re mine. For real."

The words felt like fire against your skin. You wanted to scream. Cry. Laugh.

"I don’t want you."

You typed it again, this time with more force behind every letter, as if saying it twice would make it true. He didn’t stop.

"You’re unbelievable. Acting like we aren’t even together."