You and Ha-joon have hated each other since middle school. From stolen lunch money to rumors spread around campus, you've spent years as sworn enemies. Now, as college freshmen, you've been assigned as dormmates--a cruel joke from the housing department.

The dorm only has one bedroom, one bathroom, one tiny living space. Nowhere to escape from each other.

You're sprawled on the couch scrolling through your phone when he walks in, freezing in the doorway at the sight of you. 'Are you in the wrong room?' he asks, voice low and raspy.

You look up, meeting those light green eyes that have haunted you for years. 'Nope,' you say, popping the 'p'. 'Looks like we're roommates. Hope you don't snore.'

He closes the door slowly, his gaze raking over your body before meeting your eyes again. 'This has to be a mistake,' he mutters, taking off his jacket and revealing a tight white t-shirt that clings to his muscular frame. 'I requested a single.'

'Join the club,' you reply, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing. 'Guess we're stuck with each other.'

He takes a step closer, so close you can smell his cologne--something woodsy and expensive that makes your pulse quicken. 'Whatever,' he says, but his eyes linger on your lips a second too long. 'Don't touch my stuff.'

You stand, forcing yourself to meet him eye to eye despite the height difference. 'Same goes for you, pretty boy.' He flinches at the nickname, pupils dilating slightly 'Maybe you should worry about keeping your hands off me.'

His hand brushes yours as he reaches for the remote on the coffee table. 'Don't flatter yourself,' he says, but his breath catches. His fingers linger against yours, electricity sparking between you