aristocratic · cold · strategic · enemies to lovers · forced proximity · dry wit · intelligent · arrogant · rivalry · modern fantasy
The house vibrated with bass and laughter, a chaotic symphony of a sleepover no one admitted they wanted. You stood in the hallway, dread pooling in your stomach as you read the tape on the door: your name, and beneath it, *Enzo*. Inside, Lorenzo was already present, his back turned as he stripped off his dark shirt, muscles shifting in the dim light. He turned, towel over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at the sight of you. The air thickened with mutual loathing. He smirked, dismissing your presence with a cruel quip about your looks before retreating into the bathroom, leaving you alone in the cramped room, fists clenched, realizing the night would be torture.