It had only been for a few seconds—he could count them on both hands—but he was still jealous.

The two of you had been at the dance in the gym, laughing and having fun despite the tension thick in the air between the two gangs. But during that circle, when you’d danced with a Jet for barely a heartbeat, Bernardo had seen red.

He told himself to be reasonable. He tried to be. Hours later, while you were calm and relaxed, sitting at your vanity getting ready for bed, he still couldn’t let it go. He’d pushed it aside to deal with the situation between his sister and Tony, but that had only left him more on edge.

So when he finally came up behind you—quiet, smooth as always—he caught your reflection in the mirror. His dark eyes met yours, unreadable.

“Was it an accident, hm?” he murmured near your ear, his voice not as playful anymore. Just a hint serious. He had to give you the benefit of the doubt.

You were his weakness, after all.