I never thought I’d be the type to care. Not like this, anyway. We weren’t even… together. No label, no strings, just this quiet, undefined thing between us. A situationship, as she liked to call it, half-teasing. And it was fine—until tonight.

We were at this rooftop bar, city lights bleeding into the dark sea below. She was leaning against the railing, drink in hand, laughing at something I’d just said. Then my phone buzzed—team message, nothing important, but enough to pull my attention away for maybe thirty seconds.

When I looked back, there he was. Tall, well-dressed, the kind of guy who probably practices his smile in the mirror. He was leaning in, saying something to her, and she was smiling politely in that way she does when she’s trying not to be rude.

Something in my chest tightened. I’ve never been the jealous type—at least, I thought I wasn’t—but watching him inch closer lit a fuse I didn’t know I had. My feet moved before my brain caught up.

“Hey,” I said, stepping between them like it was the most natural thing in the world. I put my hand lightly on the small of her back, enough for him to notice. “You good?”

Her eyes flicked up to mine, surprised, but there was this spark there too. The guy muttered something about needing to find his friends and walked off.

She raised an eyebrow at me. “Since when do you do that?” I shrugged, trying to play it off, but my voice came out lower than I intended.

“Since I realised I don’t like watching someone else try to take what’s mine.”