The next few days were a whirlwind of confusion and avoidance. I did my best to steer clear of Martinus, but no matter what I did, he was always there—on my mind, in my thoughts, taking up space I wasn’t ready to give him.
It didn’t help that every time we were in the same room, I could feel his gaze on me. That strange intensity from the club was back, and it was more disarming than I’d expected. I wasn’t used to Martinus being so serious, so… vulnerable. And part of me hated that it was making me rethink everything I’d ever believed about him.
But no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t deny the shift between us. It was like a wall had been torn down, and the more I resisted, the more it became clear that things between us had changed irreversibly.
That’s how I ended up at Emma’s apartment one afternoon, venting about the whole mess while she painted her nails, barely hiding her amusement.
"So let me get this straight," Emma said, blowing on her nails as she lay back on her bed. "You and Martinus, the guy you’ve hated for years, almost kissed, and now you’re freaking out because he’s not as bad as you thought?"
I groaned, throwing my hands up in frustration. "It’s not that simple, Emma. He’s Martinus. We’ve fought for as long as I can remember. I don’t even know how to talk to him without wanting to strangle him."
Emma smirked. "And now you want to kiss him instead? I think that’s called progress."
I shot her a look, but she just laughed, clearly enjoying this way too much.
"I’m serious!" I said, pacing her small room. "He’s confusing me. One minute, he’s this arrogant jerk, and the next, he’s… I don’t know, real? Like, he actually cares about something other than annoying me."
Emma sat up, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe he always cared, but you just couldn’t see it."
I stopped pacing, her words hitting a little too close to home. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Emma said with a knowing smile, "that you’ve been so busy hating him, you never considered the possibility that maybe there was more to him than you thought."
I sat down on the edge of her bed, feeling my stomach twist with uncertainty. "I don’t know, Emma. What if this is just some game to him? What if he’s messing with me?"
Emma’s expression softened. "From everything you’ve told me, it doesn’t sound like a game. I think he’s being real with you, Y/N. And if that scares you, that’s okay. But don’t push him away just because it’s easier to hate him than admit that you might actually like him."
I frowned, playing with the hem of my sweater. Deep down, I knew she was right. The idea of liking Martinus, of letting myself feel something for him, terrified me. But it wasn’t something I could ignore anymore.
---
The following weekend, Marcus and Nora hosted a small get-together at their place. Just the usual crew—me, Emma, and, of course, Martinus. I had been dreading it all week, knowing I’d have to face him again, but Emma had convinced me that avoiding him forever wasn’t an option.
So there I was, sitting in Marcus and Nora’s cozy living room, trying to focus on the conversation while stealing glances at Martinus across the room. He seemed as relaxed as ever, laughing with Marcus and Emma like nothing had changed. But I could feel the tension simmering beneath the surface, even if no one else could see it.
Nora sat down next to me, nudging me with a grin. "You okay? You’ve been kind of quiet."
I forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah, just tired. Long week."
She didn’t look convinced but didn’t press further. "Well, if you need to escape the chaos, feel free to raid the kitchen with me. Marcus got way too much food again."
I laughed, grateful for the distraction. "Sounds like him."
As Nora headed toward the kitchen, I stood to follow her, but just as I turned around, I bumped straight into Martinus. My heart skipped a beat as his hand shot out to steady me.
"Careful," he said, his voice low and slightly amused.
"Sorry," I muttered, stepping back quickly, my face heating up.
For a second, we just stood there, awkwardly facing each other. I could feel the tension between us crackling like electricity, and I knew I had to say something—anything—to break it.
"About the other night," I blurted, before I could stop myself.
Martinus’s expression shifted, his gaze sharpening. "Yeah?"
I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. "I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I… I don’t know. This is all new for me, and I’m not sure how to handle it."
He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. "I get that. It’s new for me, too. But I’m not asking for some huge decision right now. I just… I don’t want to pretend anymore. That’s all."
There it was again, that vulnerability I wasn’t used to seeing in him. It made my heart ache in a way I didn’t fully understand.
"I don’t want to pretend either," I admitted, my voice quieter now. "But I’m scared. I don’t know how to be anything other than your… I don’t know, rival? Enemy? Whatever we were."
He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Maybe we were never really enemies. Maybe that was just an excuse to avoid dealing with whatever this is."
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "What is this?"
Martinus took a step closer, his eyes searching mine. "I don’t know. But I want to find out."
His words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. And for the first time, I let myself consider the possibility that maybe this wasn’t a game to him. Maybe it never had been.
Before I could respond, Marcus called from the kitchen, breaking the moment. "Yo, Y/N! You want some pizza or what?"
I blinked, stepping back from Martinus, my heart still racing. "Yeah, coming!"
Martinus gave me a small smile, but there was something in his eyes that told me this wasn’t over. Not even close.
As I walked toward the kitchen, I couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened. The way he’d looked at me, the sincerity in his voice—it was all too real. And that scared me more than anything.
But at the same time, I couldn’t deny the truth anymore.
I didn’t hate Martinus Gunnarsen. Not even a little.
And that realization was both terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
