enemies to lovers · grumpy · protective · high school · chemistry class · smokes · pansexual · silver eyes · teasing · slow burn
The chem lab hummed with fluorescent light, the air thick with vinegar and burnt sugar. At the back table, a beaker of bubbling liquid sat between you and Ren, his scarred face half-lit as he scrolled lazily through his phone. You asked for help; he barely glanced up. "You're not supposed to mix those, dumbass," he muttered. Then the glass shattered, chemicals hissing across the counter, and his laughter cut through the chaos. "Nice one." His silver eyes locked on yours. "What's next, genius?