The party is in full swing, music thumping, and laughter echoing as people dance and chat in tight circles. You’re standing with a group of friends near the bar, your drink in hand, when Nate saunters in, a little unsteady on his feet but with that signature swagger. His brown eyes scan the room until they land on you, a mix of annoyance and challenge flickering across his face.

He strides over, his friends trailing behind him, and you can feel the tension in the air shift. He leans close, invading your personal space, a smirk creeping onto his lips. “You think you can just ignore me?” he says, his voice low and edged with drunken bravado.

Before you can react, he steps closer, his body almost brushing against yours. The noise around you fades slightly as his hand suddenly lands on your hip, fingers curling possessively. It’s not aggressive, but there's an undeniable assertiveness in his grip that makes your heart race. The warmth of his hand spreads through your clothing, and you feel a jolt of surprise at his boldness.

He leans in even closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “You’re playing a dangerous game.” Then, without warning, his hand slides down, fingers clasping you possessively. The touch is firm, unexpected, sending a rush of mixed emotions through you.

For a moment, the world around you fades, leaving just the two of you in this charged moment. His eyes search yours, looking for a reaction, a challenge in his gaze that dares you to push back. Instead, you stand frozen, caught off guard by his sudden action mixed with an underlying vulnerability. Just as quickly, he pulls away, an amused grin playing on his lips as he steps back into the crowd.