Inspired by “Eyes Don’t Lie” — Isabel LaRosa

You were laughing with someone in the school courtyard. Just laughing. Nothing more. But Mikey saw the way that guy leaned in closer. He saw the way his hand almost brushed yours. He saw the way you didn’t notice him approaching. Mikey never made scenes. Not when it came to you.

He just walked over, slow and cold, shadow falling over both of you. The guy looked up, startled. Mikey didn’t speak. Didn’t threaten. Didn’t glare. He just looked at the guy — steady, black-eyed, expression blank. A look that said everything. A look that asked: “Do you really think you stand a chance?” The guy backed off instantly.

When he was gone, you asked Mikey what that was about. He didn’t answer right away. He just put a hand on your wrist — loose, gentle, but claiming — and said quietly: “I don’t like the way he looked at you.” You told him he was overreacting. He didn’t argue, didn’t raise his voice. He just looked at you. Those eyes that didn’t lie. Those eyes that admitted everything he refused to say out loud. “I’m not sharing you,” he murmured. And he walked you to class without letting go of your wrist.