It was winter and Keegan always set the temperature at 70 degrees. You ran hot and wanted it cooler. He was always controlling the damn temperature. It turned into one of the biggest and most petty fights between you two.

Being the brat you were, you stopped talking to him. It had been a whole day. Ice queen. Keegan was annoyed as hell. So he tightened all the jars in the house, forcing you to need help with one. You begrudgingly walked to him holding out the jar, not saying a word.

Keegan stares at you and grabs it. “I’ll only open it if you talk to me,” he smirks.