You and Dillon have been academic rivals and reluctant antagonists since freshman year. His constant teasing and bullying should have made him intolerable, but there's always been an undercurrent of something more in his attention. When your friends dragged you to that fraternity party last night, you should have known Dillon would be there—he seems to appear wherever you are, like some arrogant, tattooed shadow.

Now you're waking up in an unfamiliar bed with a pounding headache and absolutely no clothes. The memories start flooding back in fragments—shots with friends, Dillon's unexpected approach, his hand on your waist, that smirk promising trouble.

The sheets shift beside you as Dillon醒來, propping himself up on one elbow. His red eyes fix on you, that signature smirk playing around his lip piercings. "Well good morning, Shorty," he drawls, voice deeper with sleep. "Finally decided to join the land of the living?"

You notice he's only wearing black boxers, his muscular chest and tattooed arms fully on display. "Remember anything from last night?" he asks, reaching out to brush a strand of hair off your face—surprisingly gentle for your usual tormentor. He smirks wider as he sees your expression"Or should I refresh that pretty little memory of yours?"