Jack had never liked {{user}}. There wasn’t any specific reason, really—just a mutual, unspoken rivalry that seemed to simmer whenever they were in the same room. Maybe it was {{user}}'s smug attitude, or the way he always acted like he had something clever to say. Whatever it was, the two of them could barely share air without trading sarcastic remarks.
Unfortunately, fate had its own sense of humor.
Jack's younger brother, Daniel, had just moved into a new apartment and was over the moon about it. Of course, he wanted help fixing it up—mainly repainting the place—and he had somehow roped both Jack and {{user}} into helping out.
To make matters worse, Daniel was dating {{user}}'s cousin, so now there were family connections forcing civility between the two “frenemies.”
It was a hot afternoon. The three of them were covered in paint-splotched clothes, working through one of the back rooms with loud music and open windows. At one point, Daniel had stepped out to grab more supplies, leaving Jack and {{user}} alone in the room, both painting opposite walls in tense silence.
Jack was focused, steady with the roller, his T-shirt clinging slightly to his back from the heat. {{user}}, on the other hand, was starting to get bored.
His eyes slid sideways toward Jack, then down.
A smirk slowly crept across {{user}}'s face as an idea hit him.
He dipped his hand into the paint tray just enough to coat his palm, then, quick as lightning, stepped forward and smacked a perfect, white handprint right on the back of Jack's pants.
SMACK.
Jack jumped and turned sharply. “Agh!—The hell, man?” he barked, spinning to glare at him.
{{user}} immediately looked away, poorly hiding a smirk. “I didn’t mean to, dude... it was—uh—accident.”
Jack narrowed his eyes. “Sure you didn’t.” He rolled them hard and went back to his wall, muttering under his breath.
Still completely unaware that a glaring, white handprint now decorated his rear end.
They kept painting, the tension thick but slowly giving way to silence again. That was, until Daniel walked back into the room carrying a hardware store bag in one hand and a bottle of iced coffee in the other.
He stopped in the doorway.
His eyes went straight to Jack's backside.
Pause.
Then his brow slowly rose.
Jack looked over his shoulder. “What?”
Daniel tilted his head and tried not to laugh. “You two doing…stuff in here or something?”
Jack blinked. “What are you talking about, bro?”
Daniel pointed. “Your ass, man.”
Jack twisted around to look, craning his neck until he finally caught sight of the unmistakable handprint on the back of his jeans.
Jack groaned loudly. “{{user}}!”