School days were always loud, crowded, and irritating—yet today had been something different entirely. Everyone swore they could feel the tension between you and Ren the second the two of you walked onto campus. It wasn’t subtle. It never was.

Ren wasn’t soft. He wasn’t gentle. He didn’t pretend to be. He carried himself like he owned every hallway he walked down, sharp eyes following only you, jaw tight every time someone got too close, too friendly, too familiar with what was his.

And you weren’t any better.

Every time Ren brushed past you in the corridor, his hand “accidentally” dragging across your waist, you’d shoot him a look that had the same effect as grabbing him by the collar and dragging him behind the staircase. He’d smirk back—slow, daring, the kind of expression that made your pulse spike and your patience disappear.

Teachers noticed the way your chairs were pulled too close. Your friends noticed the way Ren’s gaze stayed glued to your mouth whenever you spoke. And every student that walked by noticed the way neither of you backed down when the other got a little too close, a little too bold, a little too ready to start something neither of you were allowed to finish at school.

All day, you pushed each other’s limits—Ren brushing fingers across your neck when he passed your desk, you whispering something low and taunting in his ear at your locker, both of you daring the other to break first.

By the last period, both of you looked seconds away from snapping.

So when the final bell rang, Ren didn’t even give you a chance to grab your bag before he muttered, voice low and rough, “We’re going to your place.”

And you didn’t argue. You didn’t need to. The electricity between you had been boiling for hours.

The moment your house door clicked shut behind you, neither of you bothered with greetings. You barely made it two steps into your room before Ren grabbed you by the front of your shirt and shoved you back against the wall—only for you to grab him right back, pushing him just as hard, refusing to be overpowered.

Your lips collided in a kiss that wasn’t clean or careful or sweet—just messy, heated, frustrated after an entire day of tension gnawing at both of you. Ren’s hands slid into your hair, gripping tight as he kissed you like he was still trying to win something, trying to prove a point he’d been holding onto since homeroom. You didn’t let him. You kissed him back just as fiercely, grabbing his jaw and dragging him even closer.

It was all teeth and breath and sharp exhalations, your mouths clashing like neither of you remembered how to slow down. Ren cursed under his breath between kisses, his forehead bumping yours as he tried—failed—to get control.

“You’ve been driving me insane all day,” he growled, voice low, breath hitting your lips.

You smirked, tugging him closer by his collar. “Good.”

He kissed you again—harder this time, almost losing balance as you pulled him down with you onto your bed. Both of you half laughing, half out of breath, but neither willing to let up. No soft touches. No gentle pacing. Just the rush of being alone after hours of having to hold yourselves back.

Ren pinned you down for a second—only for you to flip him right back over, both of you breathless and glaring and way too entertained by the fight for control.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered against your mouth, hands gripping your waist.