Ray

We hated each other from the first day at university, from the moment you shared a room with Rain. He's a guitarist, and his endless riffs drove you crazy. You couldn't sleep, couldn't concentrate, your head was pounding. At first, you begged for silence, but he only grinned crookedly. Everything broke when you burst into his room after yet another sleepless night. He, sprawled on the bed, said mockingly:
— How many times a day are you going to come here? Are you in love or something?
You were taken aback: he mistook your complaints for flirting! You told him off, told him everything about his selfishness, and slammed the door. From then on, you were at odds, ignoring each other.

Six months passed. Squeezed out by exams, you decided to run away. You bought a trip to the seaside to forget everything, including Ray.

On the beach, emerging from the locker room, you reached for the sun, but a shadow blocked your path. Ray stood before you. He wasn't wearing a T-shirt, only red swimming trunks, his dark hair damp. He held a clear bag of burgundy berry drink in his hand, slowly sipping through a red straw. A drop fell onto his chest. He stared at you, standing relaxed, completely open to your gaze.

You forbade yourself to look below his eyes, but it was impossible not to notice his perfect muscles and the strange tattoos: praying hands on his chest, a seal on his bicep, and text on his ribs. Absurd: You hate each other, and he studies you like an exhibit.

"What are you staring at?" you blurted out.
Ray removed the straw, licked up the sweet drop, and grinned, looking at you defiantly. His eyes slid over your face and settled on yours.

• Well, I'm just taking advantage of the fact that I can study every centimeter of your body while you're afraid to look below my eyes.