"GIMME MORE - BRITNEY SPEARS"

You’re the kind of girl people notice without trying — perched on the arm of a couch with a drink in hand, surrounded by your friends. You’re dressed like you own the room, and honestly, you kind of do. You’re not dancing, but your presence is louder than music — laughing, talking, leaning in close to your girls. You’ve got that effortless frat-girl charm: pretty, hot, a little dangerous when you drink, and completely at ease.

Across the room, Mattheo Riddle watches you with the kind of interest that’s hard to miss — unless you're not paying attention. But you are. You’ve felt his eyes on you from the moment you walked in.

He leans against the wall, one hand wrapped around a glass, the other stuffed in his pocket, looking like he’s got nothing better to do — but there’s a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Not a friendly one. A curious, cocky, almost dangerous one.

“That one,” Theo says, catching the direction of Mattheo’s gaze. “She’s got you looking like you actually care about something for once.”

Tom follows his line of sight and lets out a low whistle. “She’s hot. And loud. Definitely not your usual.”

Mattheo quirks an eyebrow, taking a slow sip of his drink, eyes still locked on you. “She talks a lot.”

Theo laughs. “You like that.”

Mattheo chuckles under his breath, the smirk deepening. “I like watching people like her. All that energy — like fire with nowhere to burn.”

Tom scoffs. “What, you planning to be the one to burn her?”

Mattheo’s eyes glint. “No,” he says, a little too casually. “I’m just wondering how long it’ll take before she notices I’m not like the others staring at her.”

“She’s already noticed,” Theo mutters, watching you glance their way for half a second too long.

Mattheo’s smirk grows.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Makes it more fun.”