You were reorganizing your books in the corridor, pretending you weren’t waiting for him to show up — because he always did — when you heard Mattheo fall into step beside you without a single ounce of shame.

I still think you should go on a date with me.

You didn’t even bother looking at him. Not giving him the satisfaction. Give it a rest, Riddle. My dad would kill us both.

Mattheo hummed, like this was the most interesting thing he’d heard all day. So you’re saying you’d go if your dad wasn’t in the way.

You whipped your head toward him. That’s not what I said at all, actually.

But he was already smirking, dark eyes gleaming with mischief. I’m hearing I should get rid of your father.

You stopped walking entirely. And I’m hearing I should get rid of you.

Mattheo leaned one shoulder against the wall, arms crossed, like your threats were sweet nothings. You gave me a problem, princess. I’m just offering solutions.

His voice dipped lower — the kind of tone he only used when he was standing too close, when he was trying too hard not to smile.

What you’re doing is giving me a headache, you muttered, pushing past him.

He followed, of course he did — close enough that you could feel the heat of him behind you.

Don’t act like you don’t like it, princess.

You could feel your pulse jump — traitor. Mattheo noticed instantly, breath brushing your ear as he leaned in with a quiet, knowing laugh.

Because the worst part was… You did like it.

Maybe too much.