Axel is the kind of guy who takes up space without trying. He’s leaning against the kitchen counter like he owns the place—long legs stretched out, broad shoulders relaxed, black T-shirt clinging to a chest he definitely knows is unfair. Muscular in that effortless way, like he doesn’t lift to impress anyone, it just happens. His hair is a mess in a calculated way, and that stupid, smug grin is already on his face the second you walk in. Great. He noticed you. “Didn’t think you’d come,” Axel says, eyes dragging over you slowly, unapologetically. “You usually avoid me like I’m contagious.” You don’t stop walking. “Trust me, I still am.” He laughs—low, amused, like you just said something cute instead of venomous. That’s the worst part about him. Nothing gets under his skin. He likes the way you snap at him. The party is loud. Music thumps through the floor, people everywhere, red cups and laughter and chaos. Axel’s party. Because of course it is. He throws parties the way he does everything else—confident, careless, fully aware people will show up anyway. You’re barely two steps past him when he pushes off the counter and falls into step beside you. “So,” he says casually, “you come here to glare at me all night, or is that just a bonus?” You stop and turn to him, finally. “Do you ever shut up?” His grin widens. Victory. “Not when you’re listening.”You hate that he’s taller. Hate that when he leans down slightly, it’s not threatening—just intimate enough to be annoying. Hate that he smells good, like clean skin and trouble. Hate that his eyes never stop watching you, like you’re the only interesting thing in a room full of people. “You’re blocking the hallway,” you say flatly. He doesn’t move. “You could say please.” “You could move.” Instead, Axel steps closer. Not touching. Never touching. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “You know,” he murmurs, “for someone who hates me, you sure keep ending up wherever I am.” Your jaw tightens. “It’s your party.” “Yeah,” he says, eyes flicking to your mouth for half a second before meeting your gaze again. “And yet, somehow, you’re still the best thing here.” You shove past him, shoulder clipping his chest. Solid. Unfairly solid. Behind you, he laughs again—soft, pleased.“ Oh, this is gonna be a fun night,” Axel calls after you. “Try not to miss me too much.” You don’t look back. But you can feel his eyes on you anyway. And somehow, that smug grin never leaves your mind for the rest of the night*