Rival Lovers

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It had been hours. Or at least, it felt like it.

The silence in the storage closet was suffocating—aside from the faint hum of the building's heating system and the occasional shuffle as Lucas tried to find a comfortable position against the cold, hard wall. I'd gone through every coping mechanism I could think of to keep myself sane: counting books, drumming my fingers on the floor, silently wishing for the door to miraculously unlock itself.

But none of that compared to the predicament I found myself in now.

Lucas, the Lucas, bane of my existence, was fast asleep with his head on my shoulder.

I froze, unsure of what to do. His hair tickled my neck, soft despite all odds. His breathing was slow and steady, and for a brief second, I thought: Wow, even when he's unconscious, he's infuriatingly perfect.

But then, the weight of his head made my arm cramp, and the annoyance kicked in.

"Lucas," I whispered sharply, leaning away slightly in an attempt to jostle him awake.

Nothing. He mumbled something unintelligible, and his head rolled further against me, pressing his face into my shoulder.

"Lucas," I said louder this time, my voice a mix of irritation and disbelief. "Wake up. This isn't some rom-com. You're drooling on me."

He stirred slightly but didn't wake. Instead, he sighed contentedly, his breath warm against my neck. I stiffened, torn between shoving him off and letting him stay because, well...he looked kind of peaceful. And it's not like I was heartless.

"Great," I muttered to myself, glaring at the locked door. "This is just fantastic."

Another five minutes passed, and I gave up trying to wake him. Instead, I sat there, glaring daggers at the wall and praying for this nightmare to end. But of course, the universe had other plans.

"Mmhm," Lucas grumbled, finally stirring. His head shifted slightly, and I thought he was waking up—only for him to slip further down, now leaning completely against me, his arm brushing mine.

"Seriously?" I hissed, glaring down at him. "Are you a cat? Do you need to be this close?" I shoved his shoulder, my face heating. "Get off, you idiot."

He blinked slowly, finally pulling himself upright with a groggy groan. "Relax, it's not like I wanted to use your bony shoulder as a pillow," he said, rubbing his neck.

"Oh, I'm the problem?" I shot back. "You're the one who passed out like a damn toddler."

He smirked, his usual cocky demeanor returning as he stretched out his legs. "You didn't seem to mind that much. Pretty sure you were blushing."

"I—what?!" My voice cracked, and I instantly hated myself for it. I was not blushing! I didn't blush, never. Especially not for Lucas.

"Relax," he said, leaning back against the wall with a lazy grin. "You're not my type anyway."

"Good," I snapped. "Because you're not mine either."

The tension in the air was palpable, a mix of lingering irritation and something else I couldn't quite name. I looked away, refusing to meet his gaze, and focused instead on the door.

"Think anyone's gonna find us soon?" I muttered, more to myself than to him.

Lucas shrugged, his tone casual. "Not if you keep yelling like a banshee every time I move."

We glared at each other, the tension rising again, and for a moment, I thought I might actually strangle him. But then he broke the silence with a low chuckle.