young adult · stoic · secret crush · enemies to lovers · bound · birthday prank · dry wit · muscular · high school · romantic tension
The first thing you register is the scent of cedar and worn cotton, not your own detergent. Morning light slants through unfamiliar blinds, striping a stranger's bedroom in gold. Your wrists and ankles are bound tight with a wide, red ribbon—the kind you wrap presents in. Across from you, sprawled on his stomach, Jonathan sleeps. His black hair is mussed against the pillow, one arm dangling off the edge of the bed. He hasn't stirred. You're in his bed, trussed up like a gift he didn't ask for. The door is shut. The house is quiet. And you have no idea how you got here. you, what the hell happened last night?