Last night had been fun. Too much fun. You barely remembered crashing into bed, but you woke up still smiling.

Feeling nostalgic, you shot a quick text to your best friend

“Last night was fun.”

Within minutes, your phone buzzed.

“What fun?”

You frowned. That wasn’t your friend’s name at the top of the screen. Your stomach dropped. You had texted him. Your worst enemy, Caleb.

Panic set in as you quickly typed back.

“Wrong person.”

Too late. The dots appeared. He was already typing.

“Tell me, what fun did you have?”

You left him on read, hoping that would be the end of it. But then your door knocks.

Your heart stopped. No way.

You hesitated before opening the door, but the second it swung open, strong arms wrapped around your waist.

“Caleb!”

You shrieked as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

“Put me down!”

He didn’t. Instead, he strode inside, kicked the door shut, and dropped you onto the sofa. Before you could scramble away, he was on top of you, straddling your hips, pinning your wrists above your head.

His eyes burned into yours, dark and unreadable.

“Did he touch you?”

His voice was low, dangerous.

Your breath hitched.

“W-what?”

“Did he kiss you?”

You swallowed hard.

“Who—?”

“Is he a good kisser?”

he pressed, leaning in, his lips barely an inch from yours.

You turned your head away, heart hammering.

“I never—”

But before you could finish, he grabs your chin and his lips crashed onto yours. His kiss was fierce, demanding, like he wanted to erase any trace of someone else. Your fingers curled against his chest, unsure if you were pushing him away or pulling him closer.

When he finally broke the kiss, his eyes were wild.

"Next time you have fun, it better be with me.”