Enemies to lovers || JOLIVER

5-Strip or Dare

Oliver sat on the couch, eyes glued to his phone, his smile plastered on only because the camera was rolling. Around him, the rest of NSB laughed and shouted, hyping up the latest challenge for their YouTube channel—"Strip or Dare." Fans loved these wild games, and everyone was in on the joke. Everyone, except him. And Justin.

Across the room, Justin leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, his usual smile directed at no one in particular, but Oliver still couldn't stand it. The guy had been nothing but a thorn in his side since day one. They'd never clicked—not behind the camera, not in front of it.

"Okay, who's next?" Sebastian grinned, holding up the jar of dares, his mischievous energy filling the room. "Justin, it's your turn."

Justin rolled his eyes, playing it cool as always. "Yeah, yeah. Dare. Obviously."

The group whooped and jeered, the energy building. Sebastian pulled a slip of paper from the jar, glanced at it, and grinned wider. "I dare you to let Oliver take off a piece of your clothing."

The room went still for a beat before erupting in laughter and shouts. It was all fun and games to them. No one had a clue what was really going on between the two of them. No one except Ryan Justin's closest friend till now and Sebastian. To the others, this was just another joke for content, but for Oliver, it felt like a taunt. His fists clenched at his sides, but his face stayed neutral. They were live. The camera was on. He couldn't let the tension show.

Justin's smirk dropped but as he met Oliver's gaze. Still he had to pretend for the people outside so he just sighed and waved his hand. "Just do it."

Oliver stood, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He could feel everyone watching, waiting for his reaction. He stepped toward Justin, each footfall heavier than it should've been, the air between them thick with everything unsaid.

"Let's just get this over with," Oliver muttered under his breath, his voice low enough that only Justin could hear.

Justin's eyes flashed with something darker, but he didn't move, letting Oliver get close. Oliver reached for the hem of Justin's shirt, but the motion was too deliberate, too personal for something that was supposed to be a lighthearted game. He tugged the shirt upward, just enough to reveal Justin's stomach. The contact sent a ripple of annoyance through both of them, but neither flinched for the camera's sake.

The room exploded with laughter again, but Oliver's mind was elsewhere. He felt the tension in Justin's body, the way his jaw clenched for a split second, how his eyes hardened. The two of them stood too close for comfort—Oliver hated it.

As he stepped back, Justin let out a low chuckle, loud enough for the mic to catch. "Guess that's the closest you've ever gotten to me, huh?"

Oliver's smile twitched. "Trust me, I didn't enjoy it."

The others didn't catch the edge in their words, too busy laughing and teasing. But Oliver knew Justin had meant it. Every jab, every comment felt like a knife.

Finally, the round moved on, the camera's focus shifting to the others, but the tension between Oliver and Justin remained, unnoticed by everyone else in the room.

When the camera finally stopped, the lighthearted atmosphere lingered for everyone but them. Justin didn't bother sticking around to chat, heading for the door as soon as the group wrapped up. But Oliver wasn't about to let him walk away without saying something.

He followed Justin out of the room, catching up to him in the hallway where no one else could hear. "What was that back there?" Oliver demanded, voice low, anger lacing his words.

Justin turned, his smirk gone, replaced by the same cold expression he'd worn since they started the group. "That was the game, Oliver. Or are you upset because I didn't pretend to like you?"

Oliver stepped closer, not backing down. "You've been acting like this since we started NSB. You think you're better than everyone else?"

Justin scoffed, stepping forward to match Oliver's intensity. "No, I just think I'm better than you. And I'm not pretending like the others. You want the fans to think everything's perfect, that we're all one big happy family, but we're not. You know it, and I know it."

Oliver's fists clenched at his sides, every muscle in his body tense. The urge to lash out, to end the charade once and for all, burned in his chest. But he couldn't. Not here. Not like this. "We have to make this work. You think I like being around you? I'm doing this for the group."

Justin's gaze narrowed. "No, you're doing this for yourself."

They stood there for a moment, the hallway empty except for the weight of everything they'd been holding in. The rivalry, the resentment, the hate—it had been building for so long that there was no easy way to break it. But the group came first. The image, the content, the fans—they came before anything personal. That was the unspoken rule. No matter how much they hated each other, they couldn't let it show.

"Whatever," Justin finally muttered, pushing past Oliver. "Just stay out of my way."

Oliver watched him go, anger and frustration simmering beneath the surface. He didn't have a choice but to keep playing along. For the group, for the fans—he had to pretend that everything was fine. But behind the scenes, it was only a matter of time before their fragile truce shattered completely.

Back in the room, the others continued laughing, completely unaware of the storm brewing between their two leaders. And as the camera started rolling again for the next round, Oliver forced a smile back on his face. 

The show had to go on.