Y/n has always known one thing for certain: some people are easier to hate than to understand. And Elliot Vance? He makes it effortless. Sharp-tongued, infuriatingly calm, and always exactly where she doesn’t want him to be—he turns every room into a battlefield and every conversation into a war she refuses to lose.
No labels, no promises, no “what are we?” conversations whispered in the dark. Just late-night phone calls that lasted until sunrise, hands brushing a little too long, and the kind of intimacy that looked like love to everyone except them.
Y/N never meant to stay. Not in his passenger seat at 2AM with glitter still stuck to her skin, not in the dim blue light of underground clubs where everything tasted like smoke and bad decisions, and definitely not tangled up in him…