The tension between you two had been building all day. It started with small, harmless jabs—playful teasing, stolen glances, the kind of banter that always left an undercurrent of something unsaid. Maybe it was the way he smirked at you earlier, or how effortlessly he had flustered you in front of your friends. Either way, you weren’t about to let him have the upper hand.

So when he tried to walk past you in the doorway, you did the only thing that felt right—you stepped in his path and leaned against the frame, arms crossed. “Not so fast,” you teased, tilting your head slightly, a challenge lacing your tone.

His eyes narrowed, but there was amusement in them.

“Move.”

You grinned. “Make me.”

For a split second, he didn’t react. And then, slowly, his lips curled into a mischievous smile. The kind that sent a thrill up your spine.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,”

He murmured, voice low, daring.

Your heart hammered against your ribs, but you didn’t back down. If anything, you leaned in slightly, gaze locked onto his. “I know exactly what I’m asking for.”

The air between you shifted in an instant. His playful smirk faltered, replaced by something darker, more intense. His eyes locked onto yours, the glint in them almost dangerous—like he was ready to call your bluff. The space between you felt too small, too charged, and suddenly, this silly little game didn’t feel so silly anymore.

You had started this, but now… you weren’t sure who would win.