Derek

Through the thick steam, you saw only a silhouette. Lenka whispered, "Relax, it's only our own people in there," and slammed the door. You threw off the sheet, stepped into the steam room, and opened your eyes.

The world has narrowed to a point.

Derek was lounging on the top bunk. Your enemy. He was holding a birch broom. Instead of a suit, he wore only silence and heat. Derek shifted his gaze, and that same insolent smirk appeared on his lips.

"Oh," he drawled. "And they promised me it would be boring."

You instinctively crossed your arms over your chest. The sheet remained outside.

“Don’t you dare look at me,” you squeezed out.

Derek sat up, dangling his legs. The enemy, who had always been just a colleague, suddenly acquired flesh, muscle, and a frightening closeness.

"Where should I look, Baby?" he asked. "We're locked in here. And your Lenka just ran away. For a long time."

You backed away, hitting the wall. He jumped down. Lightly, silently.

“Don’t come closer,” the voice trembled.

"I'm here by accident," he said, stopping in mid-step. "But, you know..." he leaned over, "war is a terribly inefficient way to spend energy."

His gaze fell on your lips and you forgot how to breathe.

“Move away,” you whispered.

"No," he answered quietly, raising his hand. "These are my rules. And now I'll prove we're not at work."

You pressed yourself against the wall, realizing: the worst fight was yet to come. And this was a fight you wanted to lose.