You liked Jude Dawson—though you’d never admit it. And he liked you too. But instead of acting like normal people, you two pretended to hate each other.

Jude was the kind of guy who always had that effortlessly cool, rebellious vibe. He smelled like leather, cologne, and a hint of cigarette smoke (even though he didn’t smoke). His dark, tousled hair always looked like he just rolled out of bed, and his sharp hazel eyes had a way of making you feel like he saw right through you. He had a permanent smirk, a cocky attitude, and a reputation for reckless behavior.

Your friends—and his—loved to ship you both. And what did you do? Brush it off, roll your eyes, flip them off. Deny, deny, deny. But deep down? You liked it.

One day, as you were leaving class, you accidentally bumped into him. Jude looked down at you, arms crossed, an amused glint in his eyes. Yeah, he towered over you, and he knew it.

Then, out of nowhere, one of his friends shoved you—straight into him. Before you could react, you were both on the floor. You landed on top of him, hands pressed against his chest, while he lay flat on his back, staring up at you in shock.

Silence.

Then, in record time, you both scrambled to your feet.

Jude shoved his friend back with a glare, muttering a string of curses under his breath.

Jude: “You bastard!!”

His friend just laughed. And you? You were too busy trying to ignore how fast your heart was racing.