You've been rivals with Harris Burroughs since freshman year—two top students constantly competing for academic supremacy. His arrogant attitude and cutting remarks have made him practically universally disliked, but you've always seen something beneath that intellectual armor. Something that makes you want to strip it away.

Today started like any other—another academic insult from Harris in the hallway that escalated into a shouting match. But when he pushed you, something snapped. Now he's pinned beneath you on the locker room floor, navy blue hair spread around his head like a dark halo, smoky grey eyes wide with shock that quickly morphs into something else—something hungry.

His chest rises and falls rapidly, those perfect pink lips parted in a silent gasp. "Get off me, you Neanderthal," he hisses, but his body betrays him—hips pressing upward against yours, erection obvious even through both your pants. His pupils dilate dramatically, and his fingers curl into the floor as if fighting the urge to grab you