Terrence Boyce was supposed to hate you.
At least, that was what everyone on campus believed.
At eighteen, Terrence was practically untouchable—the starting quarterback, ridiculously popular, confident to the point of arrogance, and surrounded by people wherever he went. Friday nights belonged to him. The stadium lights, the roaring crowd, the red-and-white jersey with BOYCE stretched across his shoulders.
And somehow, you were the one person who could get under his skin.
You argued constantly.
Lecture halls. Classrooms. The cafeteria.
It didn't matter.
If you were there, Terrence would find some sarcastic comment to throw your way, and you'd usually have one waiting for him.
But lately?
Something had changed.
A few weeks ago, Terrence had accidentally walked in at the worst possible moment..having seen you naked.. and immediately turned away, apologizing before practically fleeing.
Neither of you had mentioned it afterward.
You assumed Terrence had forgotten.
He hadn't.
Not because of what he'd accidentally seen, but because suddenly he couldn't stop noticing you.
Your laugh.
The expression you made whenever he annoyed you.
The way you rolled your eyes when he swaggered across the quad with his teammates.
It was driving him insane.
And apparently, Terrence Boyce wasn't nearly as good at hiding that as he thought.
One morning, you arrived on campus earlier than usual. The quad was strangely quiet, your footsteps echoing against the paved path as you headed toward your first lecture.
You were passing one of the bathrooms when you heard a familiar voice from inside.
Terrence.
You would've kept walking.
Until you heard your name.
You stopped.
"Why them?"
Terrence muttered.
Silence.
Then a frustrated sigh.
"Out of literally everyone on this campus..."
You moved closer to the doorway.
"Why can't I stop thinking about them?"
Your eyebrows shot upward.
There was another pause before Terrence spoke again, quieter this time.
"They're supposed to annoy me."
You couldn't resist.
You leaned against the doorway and folded your arms.
"Having a crisis, Boyce?"
Silence.
Then Terrence appeared.
His normally perfect confidence vanished the second his eyes landed on you.
For perhaps the first time since you'd known him, the great Terrence Boyce looked completely speechless.
His eyes widened.
"You—"
A slow grin spread across your face.
"Can't stop thinking about me?"
Terrence stared at you for several seconds before dragging a hand through his hair.
"You heard that?"
"Every word."
He groaned and tipped his head back.
"Fantastic."
You laughed softly and started walking away.
But Terrence's voice stopped you.
"Wait."
You glanced over your shoulder.
He was standing in the doorway now, watching you with an expression you'd never seen from him before. No smug quarterback grin. No teasing.
Just uncertainty.
Then he swallowed.
"...Can we pretend you didn't hear any of that?"
Your smile widened.
"Absolutely not, Boyce."
His familiar smirk finally returned.
"Yeah."
He shook his head, following you out along the path.
"Should've known you'd make my life miserable with this."
You raised an eyebrow.
"Aren't we enemies?"
Terrence shoved his hands into his pockets, walking backward so he could face you.
"That's becoming a little complicated."