"But instead of truth or dare, let's make it dares only. We're not in kindergarten anymore—no truth crap."

Sometimes, I have this primal urge to rip out Mona's hair strand by strand and scribble on her annoyingly perfect face with her overpriced lipstick.

Why?

Because she was not supposed to agree with every idiotic plan the testosterone squad blurts out like it's revolutionary wisdom. Yet here she is, nodding at Shawn like he's not two brain cells short of a functioning adult.

I shoved my irritation into a tight bun of fake smiles and passive-aggressive eye-rolls.

Anyway, homicidal bestie thoughts aside—we started planning the damn trip. Principal Lee, Principal Kim, and their excitement had left the seminar hall, which now looked like the scene of an upcoming social crime.

Every member from both clubs—Sapphire and Teddy Bear—got a sheet and pen to plan our activities. Pairing us off was apparently some sick joke from karma, because I ended up with Namjoon, while his backup dancers circled him like flies.

Perfect.

Emily and Mona were already listing everything out like we were heading to a military base instead of a school trip. I mean, who needs this much structure for a five-day trip?

Step 1: Arrive at the bus point.

Step 2: Check into the hotel.

Step 3: Climb a literal cliff—because clearly, someone thought this was a National Geographic episode.

Step 4: Camp there for four entire days like we've all been trained by Bear Grylls.

Step 5: Hike back down, hopefully with all limbs intact.

Step 6: Site-seeing and fun competitions on the way back—this one was my idea, because someone needed to throw in some normalcy.

But the real mess?

It wasn't the mountain. It wasn't the bugs. It wasn't even Mona's betrayal.

It was him.

Jungkook. Sitting two rows away, smirking like he knew exactly what brand of chaos he was about to unleash.

Our eyes met once. Just once.

But it was all it took to ignite a spark so sharp I nearly snapped my pen in half. His stare was lethal—mocking, dangerous, unreadable. Like he was waiting for something. Like he wanted me to fall apart.

Spoiler: I don't. I burn. Quietly. Loudly. Beautifully. And when I do, I make sure he regrets every second.

While the rest of the club debated the number of tents and the food schedule, I scribbled down "don't stab anyone" in the margins of my paper. Namjoon glanced at me and then at Jungkook. His lips twitched like he wanted to say something but wisely chose silence. Good man.

Once the plan was wrapped up, the boys volunteered to read theirs first. Big mistake.

Taehyung, with all the confidence of a peacock on Red Bull, stood front and center, reading their masterpiece aloud. "Jumping on the bus, stopping for breakfast, arriving at the hotel, attending the disco ball, going to the beach, camping there for a week, and then—what's this?" He squinted at the paper like it had personally offended him. "Checking out the girls' tents?"

Oh. Hell. No.

Namjoon rubbed his face like the migraine forming was my fault. Meanwhile, the rest of the testosterone brigade broke into juvenile snickers, proud of their brain-dead itinerary.

"That is so sick," I snapped, standing up with enough force to make Taehyung stumble back like I was armed with a chainsaw. "You people can't even draft a straight timeline. How the hell are you going to survive basic camping without accidentally lighting yourselves on fire?"

Silence.

Except for the shifty smirks and pathetic attempts to suppress laughter. Seriously, are they twelve?

"Oh? If you're so smart," came Jungkook's voice, oily with arrogance, "let's hear your oh-so-perfect plan."

The nerve. The absolute audacity. I could write a whole dissertation on why his face deserved a slap just for existing right now.

I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to launch my clipboard at his head. Instead, I rattled off our plan—detailed, reasonable, and approved by Namjoon, the only sane person in their club. The boys responded with faces that looked like they'd just been force-fed raw spinach.

"Boring and silly. Just like your stupid face," Jungkook muttered, slouched in his seat like he owned oxygen.

I didn't even blink.

With the force of pure rage and absolutely no impulse control, I stormed over and raised my pen, aiming straight for his smug, unbothered face.

He caught my wrist mid-air.

The room collectively gasped like we were the main act in some underground MMA fight.

"How dare you, you jackass," I spat, dragging my nails down the side of his cheek with my free hand. He winced.

I bit his hand—yes, bit—and he flinched so hard we both toppled, me ending up straddling one of his legs like this was some cursed Wattpad scenario gone rogue.

"You stupid clown," he barked. His voice was deeper than it should've been. Too deep. My heart stuttered in annoyance—or something dangerously adjacent to it. "Clown?" I repeated, still straddling his leg, my pen clutched like a weapon of mass vengeance. "You just called me a clown? That's rich—coming from the circus act that is you."

I said that.

I really just said that.

The entire club went from gasping to howling like we'd turned the classroom into an open mic roast night. Some even dropped to the floor, wheezing.

Jungkook's jaw clenched so tight I thought it might shatter. His eyes darkened like a storm cloud on steroids. And then—he snapped.

He shoved me. Harshly. Pinned me to the floor with his full weight like this was some kind of gladiator match.

The breath whooshed out of me. His chest hovered inches above mine, his breath hot and angry, and my brain short-circuited before my hand remembered it was still clutching a pen.

So I stabbed him. Lightly. In the chest.

The look on his face was chef's kiss—a glorious mix of pain, outrage, and raw disbelief.

"You absolute psychopath!" he growled.

"Seriously, who just stabs people in front of an audience?!"

"Someone who's had enough of your stupid face and your stupider mouth," I snapped, kicking him off me like a feral cat in lip gloss.

We scrambled to our feet, untamed and unhinged. I lunged for his neck. He grabbed a fistful of my glorious hair like it personally insulted him.

"You are so freaking hideous," I spat. "Is that natural or did karma just give up halfway?"

He yanked my hair harder. "Look who's talking, SpongeSass SquareSnarl."

I headbutted him.

Silence.

He hit the floor on his ass, eyes wide, looking at the ceiling like it just told him his star sign was "defeated."

Perfect timing—both Principals stormed in like we'd summoned them with chaos.

"Oh my God, what is happening?!" Principal Kim nearly shrieked, her heels clicking as she rushed forward.

Principal Lee rushed to help Jungkook, who looked like a rejected extra from a low-budget horror movie—white shirt, blood, and all.

Oops. Maybe I did stab him a little harder than intended.

Mona appeared beside me, pressing a tissue to my nose like a stage mom tending to her prizefighter.

"You totally won," she whispered.

But no. No, I didn't.

Because even with blood on his shirt and bruises blooming, Jungkook?

Was smirking.

At me.

And something traitorous inside me fluttered.

I hate myself.

So. Freaking. Much.

"What's gotten into you, Nina?" Principal Lee barked, eyes blazing.

"I told you to make things work out between you two," he snapped, voice tight.

Before I could even breathe, Principal Kim cut in, voice smooth but deadly, "There's only one way they'll stop this."

I braced myself for something awful—detention, scrubbing toilets, something—anything but what came next.

"You're both going to work together the entire trip," she declared.

Jungkook tried to argue, but she silenced him with a sharp, "Hush. If I catch either of you fighting again, I'll make you kiss each other. And trust me, I'm serious."

Puke lodged itself in my throat. I barely kept myself from gagging as she strutted out with Principal Lee.

Jungkook's glare zeroed in on me. "This is all because of you."

Classic. When in doubt, blame Nina.

I grabbed the rock-solid duster and threw it at his face.

But the bastard caught it mid-air.

With a cocky smirk, he flung it back at me.

Instinctively, I bent down just in time, and the duster slammed hard against the wall behind me, leaving a satisfying dent.

My girls swooped in, dragging me toward the infirmary.

Mona snickered and high-fived the others.

I still don't get what she's celebrating—me stuck on a team with Jungkook, or the way I just shattered his smug little ego.

Jungkook's P.o.v

"Ow... aish, that stings." Principal Kim marched me and the boys out of the chaos straight to the infirmary. Elijah and Namjoon had me half-carried while Jin Hyung was rubbing some tincture over the neat little hole Nina left in my chest—courtesy of her "silly yet pointed" pen.

"How could you do that to a girl, Jeon Jungkook?" Principal Kim snapped, pacing like a hawk with a vendetta inside that sterile room.

"I'm trying to broker some kind of truce and love here—with Principal Lee, of all people—and you're out here wrecking it like you own this damn school," she snarled, eyes drilling into mine. And don't get me started on that 'love' crap she threw in there.

"Waee... she hurt me too, I'm way more damaged than she was," I said, wiggling like a brat, only to get a sharp whack from Jin Hyung on my forehead.

"If this nonsense happens again, I swear I'll suspend you—permanently. No university will touch a dropout, especially not a school dropout with a rep like yours. We have a reputation to uphold, unlike me, who has to babysit these wild beasts trashing my well-known school name into a sewer," Principal Kim ranted.

Man... that hurt worse than Nina's pen.

"I don't like you, Principal K. You're a supremacist—you only care about the girls, especially her, and definitely not me," I snapped, turning my back on her. Childish? Maybe. But I didn't give a damn.

"Um... it's not like that—" she tried to argue, but stormed out before I could hear more. Figures. No explanation ever for why she sided with those dumb girls over me.

Later that day, I was at home, packing for the trip. I couldn't shake the sinking dread. Sharing a room with Nina? A tent with her? God, just let a tsunami wipe this town off the map—and drag that clown Nina right along.

"What in the world, Jungkook?" Elijah barged into my room without knocking. That's when I noticed I was on my knees, rubbing my hands stupidly. No, I wasn't praying—at least not for her.

Elijah held up a green apple from the basket and smirked. "Nina dropped this off on her way. You should probably go apologize."

I snatched the basket, ripping the letter tied to the netted ribbon.

I am still not over your miserable ass. I'm not stopping until you beg me to on your weak knees — your favourite Nina.

My blood boiled. What the hell did she think she was doing? Well, Nina Darling, the game is officially on.

I'm done playing nice with Principal K and her stupid rules. I don't care about her reputation, and hell, I don't care about mine anymore.

Nina is going to pay. Every. Single. Penny.

That clown.

.........

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