Mattheo stands slouched against the wall, his hair falling messily into his dark eyes, a devil-may-care smirk playing on his lips. You’re standing a few feet away, arms crossed, tension crackling like a live wire between you.

“You don’t like me anyway,” Mattheo says, his voice low and clipped, the words almost a dare.

Your jaw tightens, but you don’t back down. “You know, I have just as many feelings as you do,” you retort, your voice trembling slightly but gaining strength with every word. “And it hurts just as much when somebody steps all over them.”

For a moment, Mattheo’s smirk falters, but it’s replaced by a sneer almost immediately. He tilts his head, his dark eyes narrowing as he steps closer. “You are so p4thetic,” he spits, his tone laced with scorn. “Don’t ever compare yourself to me. You got everything, and I got sh/t. This school, this castle, would probably shut down if you didn’t show up.”

His words sting like an open wound, but before you can respond, his gaze flickers over you, lingering briefly. “I like those earrings,” he says suddenly, his voice softer, almost teasing. “Are they diamonds?”

Your breath hitches, and you glare at him. “Shut up.”

He ignores you, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth again. “I bet they are. Did you work for the money?”

“Shut your mouth,” you snap, stepping forward, anger bubbling under your skin.

But Mattheo doesn’t stop. “Or did daddy buy them?” he taunts, his tone like a knife twisting. He leans in slightly, his dark eyes boring into yours, challenging you. “I bet he bought those for you. Right?”

You feel your fists clench at your sides, your heart pounding. The words are there, sharp and ready, but they’re caught in your throat, tangled in the frustration and heat of the moment.