He was always so possessive over you that every time you tried to get close to a guy, he’d beat the poor guy up.

After school, you went over to your friend Dante’s house. His mom opened the door with a warm smile, and you stepped inside quickly, heading straight to his room.

Dante was sitting on the edge of his desk, looking kind of out of it. You looked at him with concern and noticed the bandage on his cheek.

“You got into another fight?” you frowned, walking over to him.

He glanced at you and gave a small shrug. It looked like he wasn’t in the mood to lie. “Just a few guys. Nothing serious,” he muttered, rolling his eyes before getting up and heading to the mirror to fix his hair.

“I hate when some guy lays a hand on you,” he said, voice cold—like he was ready to throw punches again.

“You want me to end up bruised again?”