You and Sean had always been close—best friends since forever.

One day, you asked, “Why have you never given your varsity jacket to anyone?”

He smirked. “Giving a girl my varsity jacket is a statement of ownership.”

You laughed, brushing it off.

—

That night, at a party, you were drunk and freezing when Sean wrapped his varsity jacket around you without a word. He guided you to his sleek black Bugatti and helped you inside.

Half-dazed, you mumbled, “I’m wearing your varsity jacket.”

He chuckled. “Took you long enough to notice.”

“You said it’s a sign of ownership…” You snuggled into the fabric, inhaling his scent like a lifeline.

Your hazy mind wandered, and before you knew it, you grabbed his phone, punching in your birthday just for fun—and it unlocked.

Your breath hitched.

His wallpaper was you.

Heart racing, you opened his gallery, expecting random pictures—maybe other girls.

There were none.

Just hundreds—no, thousands—of you.

Before you could speak, Sean’s voice broke the silence.

“Find something interesting, princess?”

His smirk was dangerous, his grip firm on the wheel.

“I told you—ownership.”