"Ah-"

A breathless whimper escaped me as my back collided violently with the cold, dented metal of the lockers. The hallway echoed with the sound-sharp, jarring. My heart jumped against my ribs, adrenaline rushing like static through my veins.

He stood inches away, face shadowed, expression unreadable-no, dangerous. Johan Ratchata wasn't just angry. He was a storm on the verge of breaking.

His hand snapped out and gripped my chin, rough but controlled, forcing my head up.

His thumb pressed against my lips, parting them with startling ease, then slid inside-wet, warm, unapologetic. His thumb invaded my mouth, trailing just beneath my tongue, lingering with deliberate pressure.

A thin line of saliva welled at the corners of my lips, threatening to fall. I stood frozen, unsure if it was fear or disbelief rooting me in place.

Then he leaned in-closer, impossibly close. His breath ghosted over my skin, sharp and cold.

My eyes widened, then fluttered shut. This is it, I thought. He's going to kiss me.

My heart thundered against my chest like a war drum. I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to. The world narrowed to the sound of his breath and the heat of his body. Maybe-just maybe-he had fallen for me. Maybe this was the crack in his armor I'd been waiting for.

But nothing came.

No kiss.

No warmth.

Just... nothing.

When I opened my eyes, he was staring at me-expression still impassive, eyes flat and unreadable. Then, with an exaggerated breath, he stepped back, wiping his hand on his shirt as though touching me had been an inconvenience.

"Listen, shorty," he said flatly.

My brows furrowed. Shorty? Seriously? I'm five-eight. That's average. Taller with boots.

"I'm not interested. Stop following me. I'm not going out with you."

The words were sharp, clipped, efficient in their cruelty. But he wasn't done.

He stepped in again-suddenly, swiftly-erasing the space between us. His face hovered close enough that I could count every dark lash framing his narrowed eyes.

"I like boobs and vagina," he said coldly.

Then, casually, he pressed a hand against my chest. His palm settled over my right chest-and he squeezed.

I gasped, not just from the contact, but from the sheer audacity. My skin flared with shame. I felt every mocking inch of his touch like fire crawling under my clothes.

"You clearly don't have them, you're wasting your time," he said, stepping back as if I were something forgettable-discardable.

And just like that, he turned and walked away.

Gone.

Again.

Leaving me in the hallway, heart hammering, face flushed with humiliation, my fingers trembling with the effort it took not to scream.

By the time I slammed open the door to the dorm lounge, Easter nearly dropped the controller in his hands.

"Jesus, North," he muttered, "you trying to take the door off its hinges?"

Phoon and Dao looked up from where they sat sprawled across the worn couch, halfway through a bag of chips and a violent anime episode.

I stood there, chest heaving, eyes wide, still vibrating with rage and disbelief.

"Can that man," I began, voice louder than I intended, "for once-just once-talk to me like a normal fucking human being without slamming me into a solid surface first?!"

Easter blinked. "Johan again?"

"Who else?" I snapped, pacing the room in sharp, angry strides. "He just shoved me into the lockers like I owed him rent! And I just wanted to talk to him politely."

Dao raised a brow. "Is this... still part of your 'seduction plan'? Because from the sound of it, it's becoming less seduction and more blunt force trauma."

"He violated my mouth," I ranted, ignoring Dao. "With his thumb. He invaded it. Who even does that? One minute I thought he was going to kiss me, the next he's sticking his hand down my throat and telling me he likes boobs and vagina like he's reading it off a grocery list!"

Phoon sat up. "Wait. He said that?"

I threw my hands in the air. "Yes! 'Boobs and vagina,' like he's the goddamn ambassador of heterosexuality!"

Easter wheezed out a laugh, but I wasn't in the mood.

"Then-then!-he had the gall to call me short. Me! Short!" I gestured wildly. "I'm average. Taller with platforms."

Dao tossed a chip into his mouth. "Well you are indeed short but sounds like he's trying to get under your skin."

"Which he already lives under rent-free," Phoon muttered.

I scowled. "You guys aren't getting it. He's not rejecting me. He's declaring war. I can't just walk away from this."

"North..." Easter said carefully, "what exactly is your end goal here because I think that man is not gonna fall for your charms this time."

"I want him to fall for me," I said plainly. "I want him to burn. I want him to regret ever brushing me off."

"Right," Dao said, unimpressed. "And if he keeps brushing you off with actual assaults, what then?"

"I'm not backing down," I said, setting my jaw. "He thinks he's in control. But I'll be the one who shatters him."

The room fell silent. The guys exchanged glances. There was worry there-but also resignation. They knew better than to try to talk me down when I was like this.

"Just... don't let him break you first," Easter said eventually, quieter this time.

I looked away.

Too late for that.

But I wasn't done.

Not even close.