“Hey, y’all.”

When he heard your voice, something weird happened in his chest.

Why are you here? You never left the servants’ apartment when Vicious threw his parties. Plus, you hadn’t glanced in his direction since you ran out of his room with your calc book last week.

Your eyes glided over him briefly before landing on someone behind Vicious. Your lips broke into a timid grin at the sight of that person. The raucous noise of the party faded, and all he saw was your face.

“Hey, Dean.”

Your sense of style was juvenile, so why the fuck was you still hot as shit? Didn’t matter. He hated you anyway. But your apparent devotion to trying not to be sexy, paired with the fact that you actually was sexy, always made him hard as stone.

Vicious tore his gaze from you to Dean. He smiled back at you. A goofy smirk that begged for him to break all of his teeth.

What. The. Fuck?

Dean flung his arm over your shoulder, and his left eyelid ticked.

He brushed a strand of hair that fell from your braid behind your ear, and his jaw clenched.

Vicious thought about you even when technically he didn't think about you. He thought about you when he worked out and when he hung out with his non-friends.

He couldn't let that happen. It didn't make sense even to him, but he just couldn't. You were his. It sounded irrational, but that didn't make it any less true. He didn't have to slap his name on your ass when you walked into class that very first day. Everybody knew that the new girl belonged to him.

Vicious rubbed his jaw, kicking the door shut behind him. “If you wanted my attention, congratulations, you’ve got it. Now break this Dean bullshit off."

“Break up with him.” he repeated, curt. “Make it stop.”

“Make what stop?” You frowned.

“He makes me happy.” You stood your ground, because who the hell was Vicious to tell you who to date?

“He’s not the only one who can make you happy.” He opened his eyes, and pushing off the wall, he took a step in your direction.