you pulled into the park, tires crunching over gravel, heart pounding harder than the engine. the sun was low, casting long shadows across the empty lot. niccolo stood near the swings, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense. you parked and stepped out, unsure what version of him you were about to face.

he didn’t wait.

he stormed toward you, eyes wild, jaw clenched, and before you could say a word, he was inches from your face.

“are you screwing him?! the new kid!” he shouted, voice sharp enough to cut through the air.

you blinked, stunned, the words hitting harder than you expected. your breath caught in your throat, and for a second, you couldn’t speak.

he was furious. not the quiet kind. not the kind that simmers. this was loud. possessive. messy.

you stepped back, just slightly, trying to create space. “what are you talking about?”

“don’t play dumb,” he snapped. “everyone’s saying you’ve got a thing for him.”

you stared at him, heart racing. “and what if i do?”

his face twisted, like he hadn’t expected you to say it. like he thought you’d deny it. beg. apologize.

but you didn’t.

because he had a girlfriend.

because this—whatever this was—was already wrong.

and now, it was falling apart.