Romance
A first spark of attraction is often less useful than a first sign of attention.
Admiration is tidy. Irritation is messier, and usually more entertaining. The trouble is that the line between “I can’t stand this person” and “I have noticed the exact shape of their mouth when they are being unbearable” does a great deal of work in romance. Sometimes the romance starts because the character is annoyed. Sometimes it starts because they are paying attention, and calling it annoyance is easier.
That feels like the real hinge. Not the kiss. The noticing.
Admiration is tidy. Irritation is messier, and usually more entertaining. The trouble is that the line between “I can’t stand this person” and “I have noticed the exact shape of their mouth when they are being unbearable” does a great deal of work in romance. Sometimes the romance starts because the character is annoyed. Sometimes it starts because they are paying attention, and calling it annoyance is easier.
That feels like the real hinge. Not the kiss. The noticing.
Not every attraction needs to begin with friction. Sometimes it starts with competence, or reliability, or the small relief of being understood without having to perform for it. Irritation is useful in fiction because it gives you movement, but it can become a lazy substitute for actual chemistry. Two people can notice each other without wanting to throttle each other first.
Attention can be too neat a word for it. Sometimes what starts the trouble is simply that one person becomes difficult to ignore, for reasons they’d rather not examine. In fiction, I’d rather see that than the standard “sparks” business. People rarely fall over in tidy stages. They notice, resist, and then spend three chapters pretending it means nothing.