You had been talking to a boy from another house—Ethan—who had clearly taken your friendly smile as an invitation to flirt.

He leaned in slightly, flashing a confident grin. "You must get told all the time how gorgeous you are," he mused. "But I’m happy to remind you."

Before you could respond, a familiar warmth pressed against your back, a hand settling possessively at your waist.

"You are right," Mattheo’s voice cut through the air. "But I am not her friend."

You turned your head just enough to see him—dark eyes locked onto Ethan, his usual cocky smirk tinged with something a little more dangerous.

"I’m her boyfriend," he stated plainly, his fingers tightening slightly against your waist, making it clear that there was no room for argument.

Ethan stiffened, blinking in surprise. "Oh—uh, I didn’t realize," he muttered, clearing his throat.

Mattheo tilted his head, his smirk growing. "Yeah? Seems like you don’t realize a lot of things."

Ethan glanced at you as if waiting for you to correct Mattheo, to brush him off. But you didn’t. Instead, you felt a slow smirk of your own tug at your lips as you leaned back slightly into Mattheo’s hold.

That was all Ethan needed. He gave an awkward chuckle and quickly walked away.

The second he was gone, you turned in Mattheo’s arms, crossing your arms over your chest. "That was subtle."

Mattheo only grinned, tilting his head as his fingers traced absent patterns along your waist. "What? Didn’t like my delivery?"

You raised a brow. "I liked it just fine. I just didn’t know we were making public declarations now."

He hummed, his smirk softening just slightly as his fingers moved up, brushing along your jaw before tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. His voice dropped lower, his words slow and deliberate.

"Sweetheart, I don’t need to make declarations. Everyone should already know you’re mine."