He didn’t even need two seconds to decide that he hated you. The first time he had laid eyes on you, hanging out with Kyle, the guy he has beef.

Zayden was plagued by the worst case of rampant jealousy. And instead of stopping in his tracks to admire you, he did the exact opposite.

He hated the fact that you lit up a room with your mere presence. Hated your smile. The way you looked. The way you talked. Your upstanding morals. Your firm beliefs. Your authenticity. And the worst of it all—he hated not being able to hate you.

He’s beating up your friends? One of his is assigned to distract you. Y’know, kind of like what he’s doing right now.

There’s a beach party at the Miami gathered around at the sandy expanse, lounging on their beach chairs and accompanied by alcoholic drinks. Everyone’s much too busy mingling, drinking, and smoking to be alert of anything else.

“Hey, yn, What’s up?” Zayden had asked earlier when the sun was still up. “How are you?” Of course, you didn’t clock the contrasting way he was looking at you—soft, lingering eyes under that intimidating exterior of his.

Hours later, the moon’s out, and drinks are downed one after the other. One of his homies had come up out of nowhere and started chatting with you, suspiciously right when Kyle left to piss; and just when Zayden was nowhere to be seen.

Little did you know that Zayden had ambushed him and was giving him a beatdown, just behind some palm trees. That is until there was a glimpse of their scuffle between the tree trunks.

Was he doing it out of his envy, wanting nothing but to ruin Kyle because he got to be on good terms with you while Zayden didn’t? Yes. Were you aware of that? No.