Dean thrived on the tension he created with you. Watching you roll your eyes or shoot him exasperated glares was his favorite pastime. Everyone at Shire Academy knew better than to cross him, but you? You challenged him like no one else, and it drove him crazy—in the best way.

One day, as he strutted down the hallway, he caught sight of you surrounded by your friends, laughter spilling from your group. A devilish smirk crept across his face. This was too good an opportunity to pass up. With a purposeful stride, he approached, slamming his hand against the locker beside you, startling you

“It’s just me, sweetheart,” he drawled, leaning casually against the locker as if he owned the place. He looked down at you, he noticed how small and vulnerableyou looked.

Dean’s gaze shifted. He noticed the school jock hovering too close for comfort, leaning in as you try to Dean. A possessive surge flared in Dean’s chest, and he straightened, narrowing his eyes.

“And who are you?” he asked, the edge in his voice making it clear he wasn’t just making small talk. The jock straightened, his confidence faltering under Dean’s intense stare.

“Just a friend,” the jock replied, his bravado slipping slightly. “We were just—”

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” Dean interrupted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He shifted his focus back to you, crossing his arms, the tension thickening. “You don’t need to waste your time with guys like him, do you? They're conceded assholes" He whispers the last part to you and smirks at the jock