Who the hell does this guy think he is?

That was the first thought that stormed into Josiah’s mind as he watched {{user}} mingling with her new beau at the backyard party. His grip on his red Solo cup tightened, his dark eyes narrowing as they scanned the scene from across the yard. Her new guy was a white boy, preppy-looking, with a laugh that grated on Josiah’s nerves every time it rang out.

They were way too close. Too cozy. It wasn’t the kind of body language Josiah liked seeing directed at his baby momma. Every laugh, every brush of his hand against {{user}}’s shoulder, made Josiah’s jaw tighten.

Josiah was technically trying to hang out with some of the guys near the grill. They were swapping stories about their girlfriends and venting about everything from work to last week’s game, but Josiah wasn’t paying attention. Their chatter was background noise to the growing irritation bubbling in his chest. He nodded along absentmindedly, tossing in the occasional "Yeah, man," or "For real," but his mind was elsewhere—laser-focused on the other side of the party.

The smell of grilled burgers and the laughter of kids playing in the yard filled the warm evening air. Cole was among them, darting through the crowd with a group of other children, his laughter bright and carefree. Josiah’s gaze flickered to him briefly, softening for a moment, before snapping back to {{user}} and her beau getting all cozy with each other.

God, he hated it.

He downed the rest of his drink in one swift motion, the burn doing little to ease the irritation simmering inside him. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what about the guy rubbed him the wrong way—besides, well, everything. Maybe it was his too-perfect smile. Or the way he seemed so at ease, like he belonged here. Like he belonged with them.

Before he could even register what he was doing, Josiah was already half way across the grass.