All of a sudden, Johan moved.

One moment I was sitting on his bed, trying to tease out a single thread of sanity between us—and the next, I was on my back, mattress dipping beneath me as he hovered above.

His hand caught both of mine, pinning them to the sides of my head with ease, his knee pressing between mine like a threat or a promise—I couldn't tell which.

“You little brat…” he muttered under his breath, eyes dark. His tone wasn’t amused.

It was something sharper. Hungrier.

His gaze flicked to my mouth.

Then my eyes.

Then back again.

“Didn’t I tell you,” he said, voice rough, “I like boobs and...?”

My heart kicked. But my voice didn’t stutter.

“You never said you don’t like guys,” I whispered, biting my lower lip hard enough to sting.

His jaw clenched. His grip tightened. I knew my wrists would bloom red later, but my heart? It was a trembling mess.

He slowly dragged my arms above my head, catching both wrists with one strong hand now. His other hand came to my chin, firm but careful, tracing my bottom lip with his thumb.

My breath hitched.

God, I was trembling.

And he noticed.

He leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of my ear. His breath was warm. Dangerous.

“Let’s have sex,” he whispered.

I blinked.

The words hit me like a slap.

My eyes went wide.

What?!

My brain short-circuited. You Horny bastard. Manwhore. Absolute—

“Phi…” I croaked, voice cracking like glass. My body was hot, confused, tense in every muscle. “I—I…”

He didn’t let me finish.

“What?” he said, eyes bored, almost cold. “You like me, don’t you? I’m in the mood. Honestly, I was just about to have good sex before you threw yourself at my bike.”

I stared, stunned.

He was serious.

His hand dropped to my thigh now, trailing upward.

My body jolted under the touch, even as I tried to stay still. This was too much. Too fast.

“And if you prove to be a good fuck,” he said darkly, eyes locked on mine, “maybe I’ll even give you a chance. What do you think?”

He brought his face close enough that I could feel the heat of his words on my lips.

His fingers reached the first button of my shirt.

He undid it slowly.

Then the next.

My chest rose and fell with panic.

“I—Phi—I…”

My voice broke again.

This wasn’t flirting anymore.

This was real.

Too real.

I shut my eyes tight, every nerve screaming. When did the dare turned into whatever this was??!??!?

And then—

Nothing.

Silence.

No touch.

No heat.

I opened my eyes.

He had moved back.

His expression unreadable, somewhere between disgust and disappointment. But not at me.

At himself.

“Look at you,” he scoffed, tone low. “You say you like me, but you can’t even stand to let me touch you.”

“That’s not—” I started, breathless.

“Just go back to your dorm shorty,” he muttered, getting off the bed in one swift motion. He turned his back on me, walked to his closet like I hadn’t just been half-undressed under him.

My heart was still pounding. My shirt was open. My lips trembled with something I couldn’t name.

“Phi…” I said, barely above a whisper.

He didn’t turn.

“Chill. I’m not touching a short little brat like you.” His voice was cold again. Detached. Like he needed the mask. “Now fuck off.”

I sat there for a second longer, stunned.

Then I buttoned my shirt slowly, hands shaking just a little. I stood, legs uncertain under me.

At the door, I turned to look at him one last time.

His back was still to me.

But his fists were clenched.

And his shoulders?

They were trembling too.

✿✿✿⁠ 

We were all camped out on Easter’s dorm floor like a post-apocalyptic support group. No lights except the warm yellow glow from his desk lamp, snacks scattered like debris around us, my trauma sitting right there in the middle like a summoned demon we couldn’t unsee.

I was curled up in one of Easter’s oversized hoodies, still trembling like a Victorian man after seeing ankle.

Easter sat cross-legged with a diet soda. Phoon had my phone. Dao was painting his canvas and judging me silently.

“I feel like you’ll be able to complete the dare though,” Phoon said casually, thumb tapping across the screen. “That’s progress.”

I shot him a look. “Progress? Phoon, I almost passed out from his sheer horniness. That wasn’t progress. That was a medical emergency.”

Phoon shrugged. “Still. You didn’t die.”

“I almost did.”

Dao blew on his paintbrush. “You’re so dramatic for someone who accepted the dare even after we warned you that it wasn't necessary.”

“That man is a horny manwhore!” I snapped, voice cracking. “I can’t believe—like—if I’m being honest, if it wasn’t for the dare I would never even look in his direction! Never! Never ever!”

My voice pitched up at the end like I was trying to convince myself.

Dao arched a perfect brow. “Mmhmm.”

“I mean it!” I waved my arms, nearly knocking over a pack of Pocky. “He’s rude! Emotionally constipated! Cold! He probably kills plants by looking at them too hard!”

“And yet,” Easter said around his straw, “you threw yourself at his bike like a Final Destination victim.”

“Shut up! That was strategy!”

“You faked an ankle injury.”

“I was committed to the bit!”

Dao rolled his eyes. “You were committed to the abs.”

I let out a wounded little noise and flopped back on the carpet like I’d been shot. “His abs were like concrete, you guys. Etched by God himself. I felt each one.”

Phoon nodded solemnly. “The six-pack has corrupted your moral compass.”

Easter leaned over me. “Be honest. If he didn’t stop, would you have gone through with it?”

I blinked up at him, horrified. “I don’t even know! My soul left my body! I think I was ascending! I saw stars and my own funeral montage playing in HD!”

Dao finally looked up. “You're telling me you crawled your way into his dorm, seduced him with your tragic little limp, got pinned on his bed like a wattpad protagonist, and now you're mad he responded like a man with hormones?”

“HE UNBUTTONED MY SHIRT!”

Phoon looked thoughtful. “What color was it?”

“Phoon!!”

Dao sighed dramatically. “Honestly? He was probably testing you.”

I sat up. “What do you mean?”

“He’s hot. He knows it. He probably gets hit on constantly. If he wanted a warm body he could snap his fingers. But you? You throw yourself at him, say you like him, then flinch the second it gets real.”

I bit my lip, heart sinking a little.

“So he probably pushed to see if you were serious,” Easter added. “And when you panicked? He backed off. Not because he doesn’t want you, but because he realized you weren’t ready.”

I stared at all of them in stunned silence.

“…I hate how much sense that makes,” I muttered.

Phoon passed me my phone like a weapon of self-sabotage. “So. What now?”

I looked down biting my lips.

My stomach hosting a crowd of butterflies.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “But if he pins me like that again… I might not survive round two.”

Dao grinned. “Then start stretching, baby. You’ve got a dare to finish.”