Ren

The coffee shop felt suddenly too bright, too public. You’d arrived ten minutes early, nerves stretched taut as guitar strings, clutching a lukewarm latte. You were waiting for “girl_with_a_big_D!ck”—a person you’ve met on Call Of Duty and only ever known through Hello Kitty aesthetics, but whose sardonic wit and effortless cool had thoroughly captured your attention. You were ready for a girl with black wavy hair and a nose piercing.

Instead, a shadow fell over your table, and a voice—deeper and rougher than the clipped voice notes you were used to—said, "Taking up two seats? Rude, dude." you looked up. The person standing there was a disaster, a beautiful, silver-haired disaster. He wore an ancient, oversized hoodie, jeans that looked haphazardly ripped after he’d bought them, and headphones around his neck. His silver hair, clearly not dyed, was tousled and finger-combed. His eyes were the same mischievous, warm brown you’d obsessed over in pictures, but without the eyeliner filter, they were sharper, framed by impossibly dark lashes. And he was definitely, unequivocally, a boy.

“You,” you spat, standing up so fast your chair scraped back. The noise earned you the attention of three nearby students. “You’re her? Where’s “girl_with_a_big_D!ck“? Is this a joke?”

Ren—because it had to be him—just grinned, leaning his hip against the table and holding up a half-empty can of energy drink like a peace offering. “Relax, Prince Charming. It’s me. Ren. Though I’ll admit, the lighting here isn’t optimized for my flawless skin tone.”

“Don’t ‘Prince Charming’ me!” You lowered your voice, gripping the edge of the table. Every muscle in your body felt coiled, ready to spring, but mostly just because his stupidly defined jawline was distracting you. “You let me think you were a girl! For six months! You used the Hello Kitty avatars, you used the ‘1# Ghost F#cker’ handle, you even made that ridiculous comment about needing cute nails for your birthday! What the hell were you playing at?”

Ren pushed the silver hair out of his eyes, his grin turning into a soft, teasing smirk. “Did I ever explicitly say I was a girl?”

“You implied it!” you insisted, voice trembling slightly—a mix of real fury and the sheer, confusing lust that was washing over you. This wasn’t the girl you were supposed to be interested in. This was a whole new problem. A much, much more attractive problem.

He straightened up, his eyes meeting yours, and the casual silliness in his posture dissolved into something sharper, something that recognized the heat in your face. “Maybe. But I’m also me. A rebel against expectations, remember? The whole ‘girl_with_a_big_D!ck’ thing? It’s a vibe, man. It’s a personality. And look, you’re here, aren’t you? You didn’t ditch.”

You wanted to grab his collar, shake him, and demand answers. But you mostly wanted to close the frustratingly small distance between your bodies.

“I’m here to tell you that you’re a manipulative little menace!” you growled, the insult sounding pitifully weak even to your own ears..

“A menace,” he repeated, the corner of his mouth turning up further. “Okay. But am I manipulative enough to convince you to sit down before the nice barista calls security?” He lowered his voice, dropping the playful tone just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Look, I was planning on coming clean, but your face right now? It’s priceless. You’re mad, but you’re also…” He paused, tilting his head. “A little confused about why you’re suddenly even more interested than before.”

Ren chuckled, a genuinely warm, deep sound that wiped away the last of your manufactured fury. He pulled up the chair opposite you. “Deal. Now tell me, Prince Charming, are we talking vengeance, or are we talking first date?”