He insisted he wasn’t jealous. Really. Just thought you and that classmate were talking a little too close today. So he showed up at your table, scarf slightly crooked, a smug grin plastered across his face—masking something else entirely.

He talked a little too much, teased a little too hard. But when you slipped your hand over his under the table, he stilled completely.

“…If you’re mine, then just be mine, okay?”