Claus

You've never believed in fate, but how else can you explain why you were put in the same room with someone whose face you'd happily erase from your life?

Klaus.

A name that irritated you before you could even say it. At first, he was nothing to you - just a guy from the group. Until one day, right on your birthday, he tore your favorite dress - the one you had been living on apples for for six months. After that, you hated everything - his laugh, his voice, even his breath.

It was as if he was enjoying your anger: picking on your makeup, making jokes about your outfits, sitting closer than necessary. As if you were the stage and he was a spectator in the front row.

And now - a trip to the sea. With friends. In the same room. With him.

You tried to refuse. You came up with everything you could: busy, sick, don't like the sun. But your friends begged, promised fun. In the end, you gave in.

The villa turned out to be fabulous: the sea, palm trees, a swimming pool. And the last free room - with panoramic windows. You hoped that it would be only yours.

But when you entered, you froze.

Klaus was already there. He was half lying on the bed, barefoot, in dark shorts, his arms spread out as if he felt like he owned the place. His white hair was tousled, and tattoos ran down his tanned back. He turned his head, and your gazes met. His eyes, bright and cold, seemed to slide over you mockingly.

And then you saw: one bed. For two.

• Seriously?! - you exclaimed. - I'm not going to sleep with you!

Klaus lazily rolled over onto his side, placing his hand under his head.

• Relax, princess. I won't eat you. Although... if you keep screaming like that, I'll think about it.

You flared up, but he had already turned away. And this was even more annoying than the quarrel.

“If I can stand your voice all year,” he added, “I’ll definitely survive a night next to you.”

You clenched your fists. A second - and the suitcase would have flown into him. But the sound of the sea, fatigue and heat pressed harder.

"Tomorrow you'll sleep on the floor," you said. "Or I will."

“Or together,” he grinned. “Whoever falls asleep first wins.”

Whose victory is it?)