You slam the crumpled parchment onto the table in front of Mattheo, crossing your arms as you glare down at him. “Really, Riddle? A ranking?”

Mattheo doesn’t even flinch. He leans back in his chair, stretching his arms lazily behind his head, looking up at you with a slow smirk. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he says.

You scoff. “Oh, please. You ranked Theo as slightly less toxic than Tom. ReguIus is in the middle like some moderate asshole, and Draco—Draco—is supposedly worse than Enzo?”

Mattheo shrugs. “I stand by my research.”

“You conveniently left yourself off the list.”

"Obviously," he says, voice dripping with confidence.

You narrow your eyes. "Obviously? Mattheo, you belong at the top of this list."

Mattheo clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “I don’t manipulate. I don’t play games.” His fingers ghost along your wrist, his touch light, teasing.

"I just take what’s mine," he murmurs with a wink.

You roll your eyes so hard it almost hurts.

“Well, congratulations. You’ve officially reached peak delusion."

As you turn to walk away, he calls after you.

"Careful, princess," he calls after you, his voice dripping with something wicked. "Or, the next list I come out with might not paint you in such an innocent light."

You freeze for a split second. He’s always playing the long game. And something tells you—you’ve just been added to his list.