You didn’t feel like walking into Baekjeong with the others — your temples were pulsing and your stomach had been eating itself since fourth period — so you stayed behind in the car with Jackson.

Not ideal.

Kayla, Maddie, and Elijah disappeared through the glass doors while Jackson slid into the back seat beside you like he owned the car. He stretched out — knee to yours, that overconfident manspread that said make me. You shoved his leg with your foot.

“Move,” {{user}} muttered.

“Make me,” he shot back, smirking without even looking at you.

That was the thing about the two of you: half hostility, half heat, and not a single second of silence. Picking at each other was basically your love language — even if the “love” part was the piece neither of you ever said out loud.

He belonged to Kayla — usually. When she wasn’t cheating. When she wasn’t posting shopping hauls with captions like “he spoils me!”. They’d been off again last month, which meant Jackson had been yours for exactly three and a half weeks — the late night calls, the long drives, the honesty he never gave her — until Kayla reeled him back and he let her.

“Look…she was out with him again,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “And then she lies like I’m stupid.”