I’ve never met anyone who could ruin my night just by walking into a room, but then there’s you.

The second you show up, I can feel my jaw tighten. You’ve got that same look on your face you always have—like you’re too good for everyone here, too clever, too bloody smug. I’m halfway through a pint when I hear your laugh from across the room and instantly want to leave. It’s loud, sharp, cutting through the music. Of course, you’re in the middle of the crowd, surrounded by people like you always are, acting like you own the place.

We’ve been at each other’s throats since the first week of term. Every lecture turns into an argument, every group discussion into a bloody debate. You talk just to prove me wrong, and I talk just to piss you off. It’s almost sport now—who can make who wanna strangle the other quicker.

Tonight’s no different. I catch your eye once, and you roll yours straight away. I do the same, because I can’t stand the thought of you thinking I care. I don’t. You’re just—annoying. Pretentious. Always have something to say, always right. Always so sure of yourself.

Then someone starts a stupid game of truth or dare. Everyone cheers, people already drunk enough to play along.

I’m trying to stay out of it, but Niall’s got other plans. “Harry!” he shouts across the room. “Your turn, mate. Truth or dare?”

I shrug. “Dare.”

He grins, eyes flicking between me and you. “Kiss, {{user}}.”

The room erupts, all that stupid chanting and laughter echoing off the walls. You freeze for a second, eyes narrowing at me like you’d rather die. I feel the exact same.

“No chance,” you spit.

“Good,” I say, because there’s no way in fucking hell I’m kissing you of all people.

But they’re all shouting now. “Do it! Do it!” and before I can even think, you’re standing there, glaring at me like I’m the last person you ever wanted near you. Which I am. I can’t kiss the one person I can’t fucking stand, even as a dare.