The party was in full swing, music pulsing through the air as laughter and chatter filled the room. You were enjoying yourself, surrounded by friends, dancing and chatting, trying to forget the daily tension between you and him—your rival, the one person who could always get under your skin.

You had shared friends, which meant awkward encounters were inevitable. He was the type to provoke you with just a smirk or a snarky comment, and tonight was no different. You were minding your own business when suddenly, he appeared out of nowhere, grabbing your wrist with a firm grip, pulling you toward him.

“What are you doing?!” you exclaimed, a mix of confusion and anger bubbling up inside you.

He leaned in closer, his breath carrying the unmistakable scent of alcohol. “You’re mine, don’t forget that,” he said in a low, almost possessive voice, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite decipher.

Your heart raced, caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. “You’re drunk…” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, the anger starting to dissipate as your curiosity took over.

He chuckled softly, his grip loosening slightly but still holding you close. “Maybe. But that doesn’t change how I feel.”