Hugo Castellan Jr. had a presence you couldn’t ignore. Not just because he towered over most of the student body, all lean muscle and broad shoulders, but because when he was near, the air seemed to bend toward him. It was in the way his eyes tracked you across a room, in the way his body angled instinctively so no one else got too close.

That night, the academy’s winter gala buzzed with warmth and color—the chandeliers glittered, the orchestra played something loud and fast, and everyone moved like pieces on a board. You stood in the center of it all, laughing with someone at your side, a glass in your hand catching the light.

From his vantage point, Hugo didn’t hear what you were laughing at. He didn’t need to. All he could see was the way the boy next to you leaned in, the curve of his smile angled just a bit too familiar. Hugo’s jaw tightened, a muscle jumping near his temple. His teammates had teased him before: You look at them like they’re your game-day trophy. He never denied it.

Before long, he crossed the room, slipping through bodies like they weren’t even there. When he reached you, he didn’t interrupt—he didn’t have to. His hand found the small of your back, warm and steady, anchoring you instantly. The boy’s grin faltered, just slightly, before he excused himself with some half-mumbled excuse.

Hugo barely registered him leaving. His thumb pressed against the silk of your shirt, a subtle circle, and though he stood just close enough to shield you from the room, there was no demand in the gesture. Just that silent gravity that pulled you closer.

He didn’t speak until much later, when the music slowed and the ballroom was dimming, half the students gone to sneak into other corners of the school. He walked you out to the frost-lined courtyard, his coat draped over your shoulders, his hands buried in his pockets as if to stop himself from reaching again.

For a moment, the cold stung and silence stretched. You turned to him, ready to tease, to ask why he’d been glued to your side all night. But he was already watching you with that restless intensity, the kind that made his chest rise and fall too quickly.

Finally, his voice broke through, quiet.

“I don’t care if they’re harmless,” he murmured, eyes fixed on yours. “I can’t stand watching that."