You spun in a carefree circle on the dance floor. Laughter bubbled from your lips, fueled by the alcohol coursing through your veins and the warmth of your friends around you. It was one of those rare nights where everything felt perfect—where the stress of school and the weight of the past faded into the background, leaving nothing but the present moment.

But then he walked in.

Jasper. His presence was like a ripple of cold air through the warmth of the party. You didn’t notice him at first, too lost in your revelry, but he noticed you immediately. His friends were joking and laughing as they stepped inside, but Jasper’s smile disappeared the moment his eyes locked on you. His dark gaze narrowed, and a muscle in his jaw ticked.

You were dancing, the lights casting a glow over your skin, your movements uncoordinated but joyful. Your dress—shorter, more revealing than anything he’d ever seen you wear in high school and in college—clung to you in a way that sent an unfamiliar, unwelcome heat rushing through him. He didn’t know why it annoyed him so much, but it did.

Pushing through the crowd, Jasper reached your side. Before you could register him, he threw a jacket over your shoulders, the weight of it startling you.

“Put this on. Now.” His voice was low, sharp, and commanding, the tone that had always set your teeth on edge.

Blinking up at him, you swayed slightly, still caught in the haze of alcohol. “What—?”

“Just do it.” His eyes flickered to the people around you and his scowl deepened. “What are you even wearing?” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

The heat of embarrassment and anger bloomed in your chest. “What’s your problem, Haywood?”

“You’re my problem,” he shot back, his eyes locked on yours. “You shouldn’t be out here like this.”

He didn’t leave after that. He didn’t plan to. Wherever you went, his dark silhouette wasn’t far behind, his brooding presence a constant reminder of the rivalry—and tension—that had always simmered between you.