The door to your dorm creaked open as you stumbled in. You kicked off your shoes with a triumphant huff, only to freeze when you noticed someone sitting on the edge of your bed.

Dark curls, a sharp jawline, and piercing eyes met yours. The boy—no, man—leaned back casually, his arms crossed as if he owned the place. He looked up from the book in his hands and smirked, clearly amused by your disheveled state.

“Evening, princess,” he said, his tone laced with a teasing edge.

You blinked at him, your brain scrambling to piece together why he looked vaguely familiar. Did you know him? Who was he? Why was he here?

“Do you… have a girl?” you asked suddenly, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. You staggered a step closer, pointing at his hand. “I don’t see a ring on your finger…” You tilted your head. “Well, that’s interesting.”

Mattheo arched a brow, the smirk widening into a grin. “Is it?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Have you ever thought… of dating a singer?” Your voice was heavy with curiosity and a touch of dramatic flair.

His laugh was low and rich, filling the room like music. “A singer?” he repeated. “And why’s that, princess?”

You shrugged, leaning against the nearest chair for balance. “I dunno. You look like the type who needs someone to serenade you.” You paused, then added with a playful pout, “Do you need someone to serenade you?”

Mattheo shook his head, closing the book and setting it aside. He stood, towering over you but keeping his expression soft as he reached out to steady you. “Are you drunk, princess?”

You squinted at him, still not quite recognizing him but undeniably drawn to the warmth in his eyes. “Maybe,” you admitted. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

He chuckled. “Which one? The one about dating singers or the one about why you don’t recognize your own boyfriend?”

Your eyes widened. “Wait. Boyfriend?”

Mattheo’s grin turned downright mischievous as he leaned in closer. “Yeah, love. Your boyfriend. I’m starting to think I need to tattoo my name on your wrist or something.”