The common room hummed with its usual subdued chatter. You were curled up in one of the armchairs, Mattheo’s hoodie draped comfortably over you. It was oversized and smelled faintly of his cologne—a mix of cedarwood and something uniquely him. It had been weeks since you’d "borrowed" it, and though he’d half-heartedly complained about wanting it back, you had no intentions of parting with it.

You were flipping through a book, the quiet solitude of the moment interrupted by the unmistakable sound of Mattheo’s boots scuffing against the stone floor. You didn’t have to look up to know it was him—his presence was electric, commanding attention even in silence.

“Seriously?” His deep, teasing voice broke through the quiet, making you glance up to see him standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, and his signature smirk plastered across his face. “Still haven’t given me that back?”

You tilted your head innocently, feigning confusion. “What back?”

He gestured vaguely toward you, a spark of mischief in his dark eyes. “That,” he said, his voice low and pointed. “My hoodie. The one you’ve been holding hostage for—what? A month now?”

You shruggedu. “It’s comfy.”

“It’s mine. Take it off.”

“And I would rather d*e than give it back,” you shot back, your tone a mix of defiance and playfulness.

Mattheo’s smirk widened, and he took a deliberate step closer, leaning down so his face was level with yours. His brown eyes glittered dangerously, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Then you will d*e.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you refused to let him see you flinch. You stared him down, your lips twitching upward in a daring smile. “Go ahead and try.”

“Oh, you think I won’t?” he countered, his hand moving toward the hem of the hoodie, like he might actually pull it off you then and there. “You’re lucky I like you.”