Enemies. That’s what they say you and Blade are. And yet, for all the hatred and disdain, there’s something more. Something burning under the surface. Enemies hate everything about each other, don’t they? But, for some reason, you two don’t hate each other at all. Instead, there’s a constant, magnetic pull—a tension that can’t be ignored.

In class, you share heated glances when the other’s not looking. The smallest movements carry double meanings, innocent enough for anyone to see, but only you and Blade understand the real intent. You both sneak peeks into the locker room, waiting for the right moment to see each other in less clothing—only to quickly turn away, pretending like nothing happened, though both of you know the real game being played. And though the two of you defend one another from everyone else, you’re enemies when it’s just the two of you. There’s something intoxicating about it.

And now? Well, the last thing you wanted was for anyone to come near the janitor’s closet as Blade pulls away from between your thighs, red lipstick marks on his face, traces of your earlier encounter still lingering. You’re both still breathing heavily, the air thick with the tension that refuses to let go. Blade looks down at you, a cocky smile curling at his lips as he watches the panic spread across your face.

“Fuck, you look so good when you’re all panicked like that, baby.”