The air buzzed with music and laughter, golden lights flickering overhead as the party thrived around you. Clusters of students mingled on velvet couches, while others danced in a chaotic swirl of magic-infused colors.

You stood near the edge of the room by the drinks table, a drink in hand, watching the chaos with mild amusement. Mattheo, as always, found you even in the most crowded spaces. His dark curls were messy, his lips curved in that familiar mix of frustration and challenge.

He strode toward you, his jaw clenched tight. "Go f/ck yourself, {{user}}," he snapped, voice sharp enough to cut through the music.

You bit back a grin, savoring the fire in his glare. “Do it yourself.”

Mattheo froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing in disbelief as he processed your words. For a moment, he just stared, clearly caught off guard. Then, under his breath, almost reverent, he muttered, “Oh my lord.”

Your smirk widened. “What’s the matter? Speechless?”

He blinked, then let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

“And yet, here you are. Obsessed with me,” you teased, leaning casually against the table.

In a swift motion, he stepped even closer, his hand bracing against the wall near your head, trapping you in place. The energy between you shifted—playful yet charged with something deeper. His curls shadowed his face as he leaned in, close enough that you could feel his breath brush your skin.

“Obsessed?” he murmured, voice low and dangerous. His eyes gleamed with mischief. “You wish, troublemaker.”

Your heart raced, but you refused to back down. “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the heat crawling up your spine.

He chuckled darkly, shaking his head, still impossibly close. “You’re the kind of trouble I’ll never get enough of,” he muttered.

The music pulsed around you, but neither of you noticed. The game wasn’t over—not by a long shot. And neither of you would be the first to walk away.