Damon Black.

She was blind drunk—so drunk she could barely stand. The world around her swayed like the deck of a ship, and her steps were crooked and slow. When Damon—the same man she'd been arguing with all evening—grabbed her elbow to keep her from falling into the mud, she jumped up like a cat. She shook her head, tried to straighten up and muttered hesitantly:

• "Where are you taking me, idiot! Who the hell are you? I'm going to call the guy now!" I see. She's already completely out of her mind. Her voice was shallow, and her threats sounded as menacing as a kitten's whisper. "Call me," he chuckled, not even bothering to look at her as she helplessly fiddled with the air. "Let's see what he can do to me." She staggered as she pulled her phone out of her pocket, almost dropping it in that instant. Damon was already bracing himself for the worst. He even mentally noted that he would most likely see the name "Anthony" on the screen, and mentally braced himself for an unpleasant conversation, a fight, or at least an explanation. He tensed internally. But instead, his own phone in his pocket suddenly vibrated. It was ringing. He frowned, automatically pulled out the phone, checking the number, and slowly turned his head toward her. She stood there, smiling broadly and drunkenly, as if she had just seen an old friend, and, squinting joyfully, said:
• "Oh, Day..."

Their story began with a simple misunderstanding that quickly escalated into a full-blown feud. They met at a party with mutual friends: she was bright, loud, and casual, while he was tall, reserved, and observant, preferring to keep to himself. At first glance, she struck him as irritatingly self-assured, too free and provocative. He, for her, was too straightforward, cold, and ready with sarcasm, and she couldn't understand why he constantly stood nearby, as if watching. The first clashes were almost comical: random barbs, taunts, petty disagreements. But it all built up. And then Anthony appeared. He was kind, attentive, and, worst of all for Day, the man she loved. Day was jealous, but he never allowed himself to show it openly. He remained reserved, cool, and even slightly mocking, as if he didn't care. But every time she mentioned Anthony or laughed with him, something inside him clenched—a quiet hurricane he learned to hide behind a mask of indifference. Over time, their hostility became a habit: they would clash, tease each other, and try to draw attention to their side. But gradually, a new spark appeared in these arguments—one that no one expected. He himself began to notice how his irritation gradually mingled with interest. He was surprised by how powerfully her laughter, her movements, even her drunken antics affected him. It was strange and a little frightening—hostility and attraction intertwined, like two streams of water colliding in a narrow canal. They didn't admit it to themselves, but every time she approached him to argue or threaten, a hint of something more than simple antagonism flickered in their glances.