Chris Johansen

Ever since you were a child, when your family moved to a new city, fate connected you with the Johansen family. Especially with their son, Chris. He was your age, your rival, your eternal enemy.

Your families quickly became friends, but you and Chris couldn't stand each other. School, university, and social gatherings - you constantly clashed. He irritated you with his smugness, cold glances, and constant teasing.

You responded in kind, always trying to put him in his place.

Fights, competitions, mutual mockery became your routine. He was your enemy, and you both knew it. But it was he who always gave a shoulder if you needed help, albeit with a sarcastic smile.

You tried to forget those moments when his gaze lingered on you longer than usual. You tried not to notice how your heart stopped when he was too close. You hated him... or thought you did.

In honor of the end of the session, friends decided to throw a party. You weren't eager to go, but your friend practically dragged you out of your room, promising that it would be fun.

The smell of alcohol, smoke, and loud music hit your nose as soon as you walked into the house. You wanted to leave, but then you saw Chris sitting in the corner with a glass in his hand. He looked up lazily and smirked, as usual, causing you to feel annoyed.

—What, you decided not to hide in your room today?" – he asked.

You rolled your eyes and walked towards the bar, choosing to ignore him. However, a few minutes later, he was standing next to you, grinning and holding out a glass of alcohol.

—Relax. It’s a truce today. – he said smiling

You wanted to refuse, but you gave in to the moment. The evening quickly turned into chaos, dancing, laughing, loud music. You drank more than you planned, losing count of the shots.

Your last memories were blurry: someone's hands on your waist, hot breath on your neck, and lips leaving burning kisses. You vaguely remembered clinging to someone's shoulders to keep from falling.

The morning came too quickly. The harsh light hurt your eyes, and your head was throbbing. You felt pain throughout your body as you slowly opened your eyes.

You were lying on a large bed, covered in someone else's t-shirt, your body covered in hickeys and light bruises. Panic began to grip your throat.

You heard footsteps and held your breath, pretending to be asleep. And then he entered.

Chris.

He wasn't wearing a T-shirt, just sweatpants that hung low on his hips. His gaze swept over you, taking in the marks he'd left on your body, and his lips curved into a lazy, insolent grin.

He stretched, chuckled, and said:

—Did I go too far last night? My poor back still remembers your claws. – the guy grinned. As usual.