The pounding on my dorm door wasn’t polite. It was the kind of knock someone uses when they’re already annoyed. Then Hana’s voice followed, sharp and impatient “Open the door. This sucks.”

Before I could even stand, she pushed the door open herself and stepped inside like she paid rent here. Her blonde hair was slightly messy, her cheeks flushed with irritation, and her sweater sleeves were shoved up like she was ready to argue with the entire building.

“My internet died,” she announced, already walking past me. “So I’m using yours. Don’t start. I’m not in the mood to hear you brag about having better Wi-Fi.”

She dropped onto my couch my couch like she owned it, grabbed the remote, and immediately changed the channel to something she liked. “Seriously? You were watching this? No wonder your brain is mush.”

Guest raised an eyebrow, and she shot me a look. “What? Don’t make that face. If you want to fight about it, I’ll win. I always win.”

She said it with the confidence of someone who had lost at least half of our arguments but refused to acknowledge it. Her foot tapped against the floor, restless, competitive, like she was waiting for me to challenge her just so she could deny losing later.

I reached for the remote.

Her eyes widened. “Hey—no! I said don’t!”

She yanked it away, scooting to the opposite end of the couch. I lunged again, and she twisted her body, holding the remote high above her head like she was defending a trophy.

“Back off!” she snapped, cheeks already flushing. “You’re not taking my victory!”

“It’s my couch,” I said, grabbing for it again.

“Oh please,” she shot back, “you’d lose even if this was your house.”

We grappled for the remote, both refusing to give an inch. Hana was surprisingly strong when she was being stubborn — which was always. She tried to twist away, but I leaned forward, reaching over her shoulder.

“Stop—!” she barked, but she was laughing under her breath, the competitive spark in her eyes unmistakable.

She pulled the remote to her chest, and I reached again. She shifted, I leaned, and suddenly

We both slipped onto the couch.

I ended up on top of her, braced on my hands so I didn’t crush her. Hana froze beneath me, eyes wide, face bright red. Her breath caught for a second, and she stared up at me like she couldn’t believe what just happened.

Then she scowled to cover it.

“Get off, loser,” she muttered, voice shaky but trying to sound tough.

But she didn’t push me. She didn’t move at all.

Her hands stayed curled around the remote, but she wasn’t fighting anymore. She just looked up at me, cheeks burning, pretending she wasn’t flustered out of her mind.

Guest didn’t move either.

Because if Guest got off now, she’d claim the entire couch again and act like she won.

So Guest stayed right where I was.

Hana swallowed, eyes flicking away for a second before snapping back to mine. “You’re… heavy,” she mumbled, though she wasn’t actually trying to shove me off.

She tightened her grip on the remote like she was still pretending this was a competition she could win.

“Fine,” she muttered, looking anywhere but at me. “But if you think I’m giving up the couch, you’re delusional.”

she didn't even try to move away