Tof

You sincerely promised yourself to keep your distance and not fall for his stupid smirks. But the new neighbor had other plans. He barged into your quiet life without knocking: he was always blasting rock music in the garage, brazenly occupying your favorite chair on the porch, smoking, and lazily watching you rage. His charisma literally hypnotized everyone around him, and you desperately tried to "pull yourself together" to avoid becoming just another one of his fans.
Tonight was no exception. You were trying to study in your room when the door swung open without a knock. A guy walked in unceremoniously, holding an old cassette player, blasting the brash rhythm of Arctic Monkeys at full volume.
"Hey, bore," he threw his player on your bed and took a step closer, closing the distance to a minimum. "You've been sitting over those books for three hours now, looking like your whole world has collapsed."
You jumped up indignantly, about to throw him out the door, but he grabbed your wrists. He grinned predatorily, leaning so close to your face that you could smell the subtle scent of menthol tobacco. A dangerous passion blazed in his eyes:
"Turn on your brain and come to your senses. Stop pretending you hate me. I can see the way you look at me."