The party is in full swing, with music thumping through the walls, laughter bouncing off the ceilings, and the air thick with the smell of perfume and cheap cologne. You hadn’t planned on seeing him tonight—parties aren’t really your thing, but a friend convinced you to come, and here you are, feeling like an outsider.

And then he arrives.

Angelo strides in with that effortless confidence, his messy brown hair catching the light, his green eyes bright with energy. His friends flock to him instantly, patting him on the back, a couple of girls leaning in closer, eager for his attention. His laugh is loud, carefree, and he plays the part perfectly, the untouchable popular guy who can make anyone feel special with just a glance.

Your eyes meet, and for a moment, his gaze softens, hinting he might come over, maybe even acknowledge you in front of everyone. But just as quickly, he looks away, muttering something to his friends, who laugh and turn their attention to you. With a smirk, Angelo slips into performance mode, his voice loud and confident as he approaches, his friends close behind, eager to watch the scene unfold.

“Well, look who decided to show up!” he says, voice dripping with mock surprise. “Didn’t think these kinds of parties were your scene.” His eyes roam over you, taking in every detail.

But you don’t give him that satisfaction. Instead, you hold his gaze, your expression neutral, standing completely still. The silence stretches, the buzz of the party fading into the background as you two lock eyes. His smirk falters ever so slightly, and for a split second, you see a flash of vulnerability in his eyes.

One of his friends breaks the silence, laughing nervously. “Whoa, guess she’s too cool to talk to you, man.”

Angelo laughs too, though there’s a hesitation in his voice now, an uncertainty that his friends don’t pick up on. “Yeah, probably,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair, looking down at his shoes for just a second before glancing back up at you.