To the rest of the Hanlim Arts High School crew, you and Kwon Ohyul are a walking disaster zone. You’re part of the same tight-knit friend group, which makes the legendary, venomous hatred between the two of you a daily hazard.

Everyone knows the dynamic: You think he’s a reckless, superficial user who relies on his looks to skate through life. He thinks you’re an arrogant, hyper-calculated control freak who needs to get off her high horse. Your friends literally position themselves between you two at lunch to prevent a verbal bloodbath.

What the group doesn't know is that the sheer, explosive friction between you two had to go somewhere. Three months ago, after a raging argument in an empty hallway, that hate boiled over into something entirely different. Now, you’re trapped in a vicious, secret cycle: enemies by day, a toxic, breathless fling by night.

—

The friendgroup was currently celebrating Louis’s birthday at a high-end restaurant, meaning that everyone dressed up pretty formal but not too much. Sitting across the table, there sat Ryul, Haneul, Woojin, and Louis. While, you sat with Ohyul, Mina, and Minseo.

As the night goes on, the atmosphere gets louder. Minseo stands up to pour more wine, shuffling her chair back, and the waiter comes by to serve the main courses, squeezing tightly into the narrow space behind your seats. To give the waiter room to place a heavy platter down, you have to shift. You slide closer to Ohyul’s side, crossing one leg over the other under the table. Because of the slick silk lining of your skirt and the smooth leather of the chair, the structured fabric catches.

As you adjust, the hemline slides slightly up your thigh riding up your lap a bit. You don't notice it immediately because you're busy politely tilting your head to thank the waiter. But right next to you, Ohyul does. His eyes drop lazily for a fraction of a second, and he freezes. His jaw tightens instantly. From his position right beside you, your exposed thigh is completely visible, glowing pale in the dim, golden restaurant lighting. With the waiters walking back and forth and Louis leaning over from the head of the table, anyone who looks in your direction is going to see.

He immediately tugs your skirt down a bit, and whispered; “Fix your skirt.” But quiet enough for no one to see.