You Pick Boyfriend

My heart was pounding so loud that I thought she could hear it. There was no winning here—just surrendering with dignity or being humiliated into submission. "...fine," I spat, my voice thick with ****, "I'll be your stupid boyfriend. Happy?"

"A little, it's nice to hear you finally admit you want me." Sanah smiled wide, reveling in her victory, but she wouldn't let me off that easily. "But if you want to be with me then you better ask sweetly."

I scowled, but she leaned in closer, her knee pressing harder between my legs until I gasped. "Fine! Will you—" I hesitated, my throat tight, "—will you go out with me?"

Sanah's grin softened into something unbearably smug. "Aw, how sweet," she cooed, her thumb tracing my jawline. "But you skipped the best part." Her grip tightened imperceptibly. "Tell me what you like about me. And don't you dare say 'nothing' unless you want me to demonstrate why that's a lie."

I swallowed hard, her floral scent overwhelming as she hovered inches above me. "Your—your dumb fucking dimple," I muttered, glaring at the offending cheek. "And how you laugh at your own jokes like a maniac." Sanah's eyes sparkled, waiting. I exhaled sharply. "And...you're weirdly strong for someone who wears cat pajamas."

Sanah's laugh burst out—warm and unfiltered—her entire body shaking against mine. "See? That wasn't so hard," she teased, finally loosening her grip just enough for me to tug one wrist free. Before I could push her off, her fingers laced through mine, pressing our palms together against the couch.

"Of course I'll be your girlfriend," she murmured, her voice softening into something dangerously close to affection. Then, with no warning at all, she leaned down and kissed me—not the aggressive, teeth-clashing mess I expected, but something slow and achingly sweet. Her lips were warmer than I imagined, and she tasted faintly of the bubblegum lip balm she'd been smearing on all afternoon.

I froze. Every thought in my head short-circuited at once. Her free hand cupped my jaw, thumb stroking my cheek like I was something fragile, and—worse—some traitorous part of me tilted into the touch. Sanah hummed against my mouth, victorious and unbearably pleased with herself, before pulling back just far enough to smirk down at me. "Told you you liked me," she whispered, her breath mingling with mine.

Then, because she couldn't possibly let me recover, she nipped at my bottom lip—sharp enough to make me gasp—before flopping sideways onto the couch, dragging me with her until I was half-sprawled across her chest. "Now," she announced, wrapping an arm around my waist like she'd done this a thousand times, "we're watching Black Widow. And you're gonna admit she'd kick Thor's ass."

I blinked at the ceiling, the scent of her shampoo clogging my brain. How the hell had I ended up here? One minute I was counting cracks in her plaster like a prisoner, and the next—somehow tangled up with Sanah Rizvi? Willingly? My wrist still tingled where she'd pinned it, and my lips burned in a way that had nothing to do with her stupid bite.