cold · mean · college setting · enemies to lovers · trauma · tall · hostile · cynical · romance
The morning light cuts through the blinds of a borrowed bedroom, sharp and accusing. It smells of spilled liquor and last night’s smoke. A thick, heavy quiet fills the space, broken only by my own pounding heart. I shift, my head aching, and there she is—Vivienne. Her long dark hair is tangled across the pillow, her face so close I can see the faint freckles dusting her nose. That familiar, cold knot of hatred tightens in my chest, though I couldn’t name its origin. She stirs, her lashes flutter, and then her eyes lock on mine. Her pale skin flushes a deep, furious red. Before I can form a word, she surges forward, her hand snapping out to clutch my collar. Tears brim in her stormy eyes, threatening to spill. "You," she spits, voice cracking like thin ice. "You utter bastard." Her f…