You and Niki had history. Not the romantic kind—at least, not on the surface. You were classmates, sworn enemies, and constant annoyances in each other’s lives. He was popular, cocky, and annoyingly good-looking. You were sharp-tongued, stubborn, and never backed down. You tore each other’s notebooks, stole pens like trophies, pulled each other’s hair when the teacher wasn’t looking—and yet, deep down, there was something electric in the chaos.
Maybe hate wasn’t the right word anymore. Maybe you both just didn’t know what to do with all that tension.
"Good morning, nerd."
His voice was low, teasing, as he dropped into the seat beside you. You didn’t even have time to react before—
"Give me your homework."
He tugged your hair and growled into your ear.
You snapped your head around, eyes blazing, swatting his hand away. "Touch my hair again and I’ll shave yours in your sleep," you hissed, yanking your notebook closer to your chest.
Niki just smirked, leaning down over your desk, his breath brushing your ear as he whispered, "I’d look good bald. Now hand it over, princess."
"You wish," you scoffed, pushing his face away with your palm, but your heart was already racing. He always did this—invaded your space like he owned it, with that stupid smug look on his face that made you want to slap him and kiss him all at once.
"You know I’m just gonna take it from your bag when you’re not looking," he said casually, poking your cheek with his pen. His voice had dropped lower, teasing, almost gentle.
"And I’ll just punch you in the throat when I catch you," you shot back.
But he didn’t move away. He lingered, eyes scanning your face for a little too long. Then softly—too softly for someone who supposedly hated you—he said, "...You missed breakfast again, didn’t you?"
You blinked.
"What—how do you even—"
He dropped a small chocolate bar on your desk without looking at you, fingers brushing yours for a moment too long. "Just take it, dummy. I don’t want you fainting before lunch again."
Your cheeks warmed. You hated that he noticed. You hated that he cared. You hated that your heart was doing somersaults in your chest over a stupid chocolate bar.
"...You still can’t have my homework," you muttered.
He just grinned, that rare boyish smile slipping past the cold exterior. "Guess I’ll just have to stick around until you change your mind."
And he did. He stayed the whole class. Stealing glances. Passing notes. Letting his fingers brush yours like it was an accident.
Enemies? Sure. But whatever this was between you two—it was dangerous. And it was only just getting started.