The campus cafeteria was loud buzzing with chatter, laughter, and the endless clatter of trays but William barely noticed any of it. His eyes had locked, unwillingly and stubbornly, on the girl who had just walked in.

Chinno.

She carried herself like the universe had paved the floor just for her, like the stares that followed her were her birthright. Heads turned, whispers rose, but she didn’t falter. She didn’t even glance at the crowd she so effortlessly commanded.

Her heels struck the tiled floor in sharp, deliberate beats, and William hated absolutely hated the way the sound crawled under his skin. When she sat across the room, flipping her hair over her shoulder with practiced ease, half the guys in the cafeteria seemed to forget their food entirely.

William scoffed under his breath. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Don’t stare too hard, Will,” his friend teased, nudging him. “You might burn holes in her dress.”

“I’m not staring,” William muttered, but his traitorous eyes betrayed him, sliding back to her anyway.

And then it happened. Their eyes met.

Chinno’s lips curved, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, like she’d caught him red-handed and found it amusing. She tilted her head, mocking him without a single word.

Pathetic. That was what her expression said.

William clenched his jaw. “Cocky princess,” he muttered.

But fate, cruel and oddly entertained, was not finished with him.

The cafeteria doors banged open, and Professor Martinez stormed in, voice ringing above the noise. “William! Chinno! Principal’s office. Now.”

The chatter dimmed instantly. Confused and annoyed, William stood, only to realize with horror that he was expected to walk side by side with her. Chinno rose gracefully, her smirk never wavering, as if she already knew what awaited.

Minutes later, they stood shoulder to shoulder in the principal’s office. William kept his gaze forward, jaw tight, determined not to give her the satisfaction of eye contact.

The principal leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Since the two of you seem to think you’re above cooperating with group projects, I’ve decided to fix that problem. Effective immediately, you’ll be partners.”

William’s stomach dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Beside him, Chinno’s smirk blossomed into a full, wicked smile. She finally spoke, her voice smooth, velvet laced with mockery. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, sweetheart.”

The word stung not affectionate, but sharp, dangerous. Yet the way she said it made something inside his chest twist painfully, confusingly.

That night, William sat at his desk, textbooks open but ignored. He told himself he was annoyed, furious even. But when his phone buzzed with a new message, his resolve cracked.

Chinno: Don’t be late tomorrow. I hate waiting.

He stared at the words, heat rising in his chest. The tone was commanding, toxic almost, dripping with arrogance.

And yet… his lips betrayed him. He smiled.

For the first time in his life, William wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle someone or kiss them senseless.

The campus cafeteria was alive with chatter, trays clinking, and the low buzz of students trying to survive yet another endless day of lectures. Lines stretched near the food counter, laughter erupted at random tables, and the air smelled faintly of stale coffee mixed with grease from fries no one really wanted but everyone bought anyway.

In the farthest corner, as always, sat Chinno. Earbuds in, notebook open, eyes fixed on the page. She looked like a fortress focused, untouchable, and certainly not inviting anyone in. Her sharp expression and rigid posture had created an invisible wall over time, one the other students had long stopped trying to climb.

But William… well, William was not anyone.

He strolled into the cafeteria with his usual careless swagger, as if the space had been designed just for him. His friends trailed behind, laughing at some half-told joke, clapping him on the back like he was the sun around which they all orbited. His confidence wasn’t loud in volume, but in presence. People looked up when William entered; they always did.

And though he’d never admit it not even to himself his eyes immediately searched for her. It didn’t take long. There she was, head bent over her notes, chewing her pen with that little frown that made her look perpetually irritated at the world.

A smirk tugged at his lips. Perfect target.

He raised his voice just enough to cut through the cafeteria’s buzz.

“Well, if it isn’t the Ice Queen herself. Careful, Chinno, your glare might actually freeze the coffee machine.”

Her head snapped up. Those sharp eyes locked on him, unamused.

“Funny, William,” she said, voice smooth and deadly calm. “Don’t you have a fan club to entertain? Or did they finally realize your charm is only skin-deep?”

A chorus of ooohs rippled through his friends. William clutched his chest theatrically, staggering as if she’d just struck him with a dagger.

“Harsh,” he said, feigning pain. “I was only being friendly. You wound me, sweetheart.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Don’t call me sweetheart. I’m not one of your cheap conquests.”

That hit harder than he expected. For the briefest second, his smirk faltered. But William wasn’t one to back down. He stepped closer, leaning against her table, bracing one hand beside her notebook. His voice dropped, low and rough, carrying only to her.

“You think you’ve figured me out? Trust me, Chinno… you have no idea.”

Her heartbeat stuttered, though her face betrayed nothing. Instead, she snapped her notebook shut with a sharp clap, pushed back her chair, and rose to her full height. Chin tilted up, eyes steady.

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

She brushed past him, perfume lingering like a challenge, leaving him standing there with his jaw tight and his mind a storm.

William told himself he hated her - her arrogance, her sharp tongue, her refusal to bend. But the truth was more dangerous. Every glare, every comeback, every wall she threw at him only pulled him deeper. He wanted to dig under her skin until she cracked, to see what she was hiding.

And Chinno? She told herself she hated him too or at least, she wanted to. But later that night, lying in her dorm bed, her mind betrayed her. She remembered the heat in his eyes, the way his voice had dropped when he said she had no idea.

Her chest tightened with something dangerous.

Something forbidden.

The library was supposed to close at eight.

But fate, as always, had other plans.

Rain lashed against the tall windows, the storm outside howling like it had a grudge against the world. The clock on the wall ticked past closing time, but the storm had trapped them there two enemies bound by one unavoidable truth: the principal’s group project decree.

Chinno groaned, slamming her pen onto the desk. The sound cracked through the heavy silence.

“We’re never going to finish this project if you keep acting like a spoiled prince.”

Across from her, William leaned back in his chair, balancing it dangerously on two legs. That infuriating smirk tugged at his lips, the one that always made her blood boil.

“CorrectionI am a prince. And you, darling, should be honored to work with me.”

Her eyes blazed. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he drawled, leaning forward now, elbows on the table, voice dropping just enough to be intimate, “you can’t ignore me.”

The storm outside rumbled as if agreeing with him. Rain hammered the glass, thunder rolling deep and low. Inside, the tension between them was just as electric, filling the air between sharp words and unspoken things. Chinno bent over her notebook again, scribbling furiously. The sound of her pen scratching paper clashed with the storm’s rhythm, frantic and angry.

William tilted his head, watching her with that lazy, predatory amusement that drove her insane. “Why do you hate me so much, Chinno?” he asked softly, almost taunting. Then, after a beat, his smirk deepened. “Or is it because I make your heart race?”

Her throat tightened. She wanted to deny it, to laugh in his face and call him arrogant. But her pen stilled, betraying her. The truth was, his words landed somewhere dangerous somewhere she didn’t want to name.

“You’re ridiculous,” she snapped, shoving her chair back. She stood abruptly, needing space, needing air. But when she brushed past him, her shoulder grazed his arm. A simple touch. Yet sparks shot through her skin, heat flaring before she could stop it. She froze, just for a second, her pulse betraying her.

William noticed. Of course he noticed. He always noticed.

He rose smoothly, closing the gap, his presence towering behind her. When he spoke, his voice was low, a whisper that burned against her ear.

“Careful, sweetheart. Keep pushing me like this… and I might just make you fall for me.”

The words lingered in the air like forbidden fire, too close, too dangerous. Her chest rose sharply, but she clenched her jaw, forcing steel back into her voice.

“Over my dead body.”

William’s lips curled into a slow, devastating smirk.

“Challenge accepted.”

The thunder outside cracked, loud and furious. But inside the library, another storm had already begun one made of sharp glares, fast-beating hearts, and a tension neither of them could deny.

This made that place way more chiller than the outside world and made them feel annoyed