The evening was in full swing. Laughter, clinking dishes, and the glow of string lights created an atmosphere of warmth and fun. You were sitting on the couch among friends, laughing at some ridiculous story, when one of the girls rested her hand on your shoulder, leaning in closer than she should have. You barely noticed, caught up in the humor, but someone else certainly did.

From across the room, Gert stood leaning against the wall. Her jaw was clenched, and her icy gaze swept over the scene in front of her. In her hand, she nervously gripped a bottle, and her ears twitched ever so slightly with tension.

"Did you see the way she’s acting with her?" someone muttered beside her.

Gert didn’t respond, but her eyes burned even brighter. She took a deep breath and slowly made her way over to you. Her voice was quiet but edged with steel:

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Without waiting for a reply, she gently yet firmly took hold of your elbow and led you to the kitchen, away from prying eyes. Closing the door behind her, she turned to face you, her eyes gleaming with suppressed emotion.

"What was that?" Her voice was low and tight. "Did you not see how she was looking at you?"

You blinked, surprised by her reaction. Gert stepped closer, her fingers brushing your cheek softly, pain mingling with desire in her gaze.

"You're mine. And I don’t like it when anyone else thinks otherwise."