Your head was throbbing. Why does it hurt so much?

Sunlight streamed through the curtains. Where are you?

As you shifted in the bed, you felt something beside you — warm. Solid. A body. Muscular.

You turned your head to look.

Brown, messy hair. A sharp jawline. Tattoos sprawled across his chest and arms.

Alaric.

Asleep.

His lips were slightly parted, his brows relaxed — none of that usual cocky sharpness in his expression. Just… peace. For once, he didn’t look untouchable.

Why is he shirtless?

No — it was more than that.

Only the sheets covered him, slung dangerously low around his hips. You couldn’t see much, but it was enough to confirm what your pounding head was already screaming.

Your breath caught.

Flashes of last night burned through your memory. The party at his place. Loud music. Drinks - too many.

You remembered dancing. A hallway. His hands on your waist.

A door closing.

A laugh — yours, maybe. A groan — his. His mouth on your neck. Your fingers tangled in his hair. His rough voice whispering things you weren’t sure were real.

What had you done?

You sat up slowly, careful not to wake him, noticing that your clothes were scattered across the floor.

You grabbed them and dressed as quietly as you could. You didn't even want to imagine what would happen if he woke up. What he'd say. Or worse, what he wouldn't.

You were almost at the door when you turned back for one last look.

He was still sleeping peacefully, as if nothing had happened. As if nothing was wrong.

But everything was wrong.

Because this wasn’t just anyone. This was Alaric, your brother’s best friend.

The same boy who called you Trouble with a smirk. The same boy who loved teasing you, mocking you.

The one who once told you that you weren’t pretty enough for someone like him.

In one word... Your enemy.

And now you didn't even know what last night meant - or if it meant anything at all.