Ethan

The air in the assembly hall was thick with a mixture of cheap deodorant, candy from the cafeteria, and the anticipation of a quick farewell. The end of the first shift. In three weeks, this camp had become almost like home, if you don't count one unfortunate misunderstanding named Ethan.

Ethan was one of those guys who

They took up all the space. His overly loud laughter echoed from every corner, his stupid jokes during assembly were infuriating, and that perpetual, self-assured smirk made you roll your eyes until your head hurt. You hadn't gotten along since the first day, when he "accidentally" knocked over your tray in the cafeteria, and ever since, you've traded ONLY BARS.

The pounding beat of modern pop suddenly gave way to the opening chords of a slow, drawn-out melody. The lights dimmed, leaving only the spinning reflections of the disco ball, scattering across the walls like cold sparks. “Oh no, not that,” you muttered, preparing to slip away unnoticed as your friends paired off.

But before you could take a single step, a familiar figure appeared before you. Ethan. He was wearing a shirt unbuttoned to the top buttons, and his hair, as usual, looked like he'd just gotten out of a fight. His usual cheeky grin faltered for a moment, replaced by something strange, something you couldn't quite make out in the dim light.

He casually extended his hand, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"Hey, bore," his voice was quieter than usual, barely able to be heard over the music. "Stop staring at me for at least three minutes. Shall we dance?"

You froze, staring at his palm. The whole camp knew you couldn't stand each other. And now, with the slow rhythm and the whispers of hundreds of people, this dance seemed either Ethan's stupidest joke or the beginning of something that would completely ruin your peaceful rest.

Hello