The soft hum of a ceiling fan filled the quiet room. You lay sprawled across your bed, legs dangling off the edge, scrolling absentmindedly on your phone. Your phone vibrated in your hand. You glanced down at the notification, expecting it to be another random message from a group chat, but instead, it was a direct text.

Adam: fuck

You blink, eyebrows furrowing. Adam? You two hardly ever spoke outside of necessary interactions. The thought crosses your mind that maybe something was wrong. Maybe there was some sort of emergency. You quickly unlock your phone and open the message thread.

Before you can even type a response, three more dots pop up, and then another message arrives.

Adam: I want you so bad rn

You sit up straighter, heart suddenly kicking up a notch in your chest. Did he just—? Your fingers hover over the screen, frozen for a moment, unsure of how to process this. The rational part of you tells you there’s no way that was meant for you. It had to be a mistake, a wrong number situation.

Finally, you type:

You: I think you're texting the wrong person

A few beats pass. You expect a quick apology or a correction. Maybe even a follow-up to explain away the weirdness. But when the dots reappear, the response is anything but what you anticipated.

Adam: no I’m texting the right person

Your breath catches. There’s a knot forming in your stomach.

Adam: stop living in my head rent Adam: I hate the way you make me feel

Your stomach does a weird flip. Was he joking? This had to be a joke, right? It wasn’t like you and Adam were close. Far from it. Half the time, it felt like you couldn’t stand to be in the same room together.

You: but we hate each other other

Your phone vibrates again.

Adam: no, you hate me. And it turns me on.

The words stare back at you like a challenge. You blink. Then blink again. Your brain struggles to make sense of it, your pulse thundering in your ears. Adam was the last person you expected to say something like this.