It had been one of those days—everything felt off, and the last thing you wanted was to deal with Mattheo’s usual antics. So, you did what any rational person would do: you took a sharp turn around the corner, hoping to avoid him altogether. But, of course, as luck would have it, there he was, standing right in your path, his trademark smirk already spreading across his face.

"Trying to avoid me?" he asked, his tone playful, as if he’d known exactly what you’d been thinking.

Before you could even muster a reply, Daphne shoved you forward. You stumbled, catching yourself just in time—but not before slamming into Mattheo’s chest. He didn’t even flinch. Instead, he simply looked down at you, a raised eyebrow and a smug grin forming on his face.

"Well, this is awkward," he said, voice dripping with mock sympathy.

You pushed yourself back, annoyed. "Your fault, Mattheo. Not mine."

He shrugged nonchalantly, not one bit concerned by your frustration. "Right, sure. But it's still fun to watch."

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. "You enjoy this, don’t you?"

Mattheo leaned a bit closer, eyes twinkling with that familiar mischievous glint. "Maybe. But I’m not the one who keeps running into me."

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your cool, but his proximity was making it harder. "You really think this is all just some game, don’t you?"

Mattheo's grin widened, his eyes still locked on you, as if this entire exchange was nothing more than entertainment for him. "If it was, I’d say I’m winning." He leaned in even closer, his voice lowering slightly, just loud enough for you to hear. "Besides, you’ve got that look in your eyes. You’re annoyed. You might even be… interested."

Your heart skipped a beat, but you masked it with a quick roll of your eyes. "Not even close."

"Sure," he said, eyes gleaming, "keep telling yourself that."

You took a step back, knowing this conversation was only just getting started.