You were at a party, pretending to be deep in conversation with a boy who was just charming enough to hold your attention - but only because your boyfriend, Mattheo, had annoyed you half an hour ago.

You could feel Mattheo across the room before you even saw him. He leaned against the wall with a cigarette in his hand, jaw tight, eyes fixed on you like you were a bomb ticking down in his chest.

He stared at the boy next to you with that that look that said “You’ve got five seconds to walk away, mate.”

The boy noticed him immediately. He stumbled over his sentence and quickly made up an excuse to leave, shooting a glance at Mattheo as he walked off. Classic.

You didn’t even turn toward him when you felt Mattheo finally approach. “You’re a real pain sometimes,” you muttered.

He took the last drag of his cigarette, flicked it into the fire, and before you could continue your righteous monologue, he grabbed your face and kissed you - like his mouth could say everything his pride wouldn’t let him voice.

He pulled back just an inch, his lips brushing yours, and gave you the puppy dog eyes. Big, dark, almost guilty—but too smug underneath to be real remorse.

“You done being mad?” he asked.

“No,” you shot back, even though your heart was already racing.

He smirked. “Then I’ll keep kissing you until you are.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, he slipped his arms around your waist. His face dropped into the crook of your neck with a dramatic sigh.

“You smell better than my entire life,” he mumbled, slurring slightly. Yeah—definitely tipsy.

“You’re drunk,” you muttered, but you didn’t push him off.

“And you’re warm,” he murmured. “So I’m staying.”

You felt him sway a bit, pulling you tighter into his chest. Despite yourself, you wrapped your arms around him. You knew this version of Mattheo—the clingy, tipsy one who caused chaos just so you’d put him in his place.

“You were flirting with that guy,” he grumbled into your neck.