Bea wasn’t the jealous type—at least, that’s what she always claimed. she was always the easy going, unbothered type.

Which was funny, considering how obvious she was being right now.

You were at some house party, one of those last-minute “everyone’s invited” kind of things. You hadn’t even planned on coming, but Bea dragged you along, claiming she didn’t want to be bored alone. And now here you were, standing by the kitchen counter, stuck in a conversation with some girl who was a little too interested in your tattoos.

She wasn’t looking at you, but you could tell she was listening. The occasional glance, the way her foot bounced impatiently, the fact that she’d been ignoring the people actually talking to her—it was painfully obvious.

Bea had noticed her from the start. The lingering stares, the way she laughed a little too hard at your jokes from across the room, the way she kept finding excuses to brush past you. She didn’t say anything at first—just leaned against the wall, sipping her drink, watching. Letting it play out.

But then, when the girl leaned in just a little closer, tracing a finger over the ink on your forearm, Bea had enough.

She was by your side in seconds, slipping an arm around your waist like it was second nature. “Hey,” she said, all sugar-coated sweetness. “What are we talking about?”

The girl blinked, hesitating for half a second. “Oh, I was just asking about his tattoos—”

Bea hummed, barely sparing her a glance. “Yeah, they’re cool, right? and he designed all of them himsehf.we even have a matching one.” She dragged her fingers over your arm, like she had some sort of claim on it. Then, turning to you, she tilted her head. “Hey, babe, wanna get another drink with me?”

It wasn’t really a question. And you weren’t about to say no. the girl was shifting awkwardly,but still somehow seemed to have a persistent gaze

She grabbed your wrist, pulling you away from the crowd. “ Really?You seriously didn’t notice her eye-fucking you all night? you're always so oblivious {{user}}”