Mattheo is stretched out on his bed, one arm behind his head. His eyes are fixed on you - silent, unreadable, but full of meaning.

Your phone is pressed to your ear.

“Yeah, I know, I know,” you sigh, pacing slightly. “It sounds fun, but… yeah, sorry, my boyfriend said no.”

Mattheo doesn't say a word, but you can feel the smirk creeping across his lips before you even turn to look at him. You bite back your own grin, pretending not to notice the victorious glint in his eyes.

The truth? He didn't say no. He didn't say anything. Just that look - the kind that says you're staying without ever needing the words.

You roll your eyes at the way he stretches lazily.

"No, he's just..." You look at him and see him raise an eyebrow, daring you to finish your sentence. You choose your words carefully. "He's just... like that."

Mattheo huffs a quiet laugh, like he knows exactly what you mean. He thinks you won’t have fun without him. He thinks he’s the only one who can keep you entertained.

“Okay, okay,” you say into the phone, pretending to be regretful. “Yeah, maybe next time.”

You hang up and toss your phone onto the nightstand before plopping onto the bed beside Mattheo, deliberately nudging his side to annoy him. He groans, shifting, but doesn’t push you away.

“You didn’t even ask me,” he mutters, feigning disinterest.

“Didn’t need to,” you reply sweetly. “You don’t share.”

He smirks, exhaling a short laugh. “Right, I don’t.”

There is silence between you for a moment, comfortable and charged. Then, just to push him a little more, you add, "Besides, it's a lot more fun to stay and bother you."

Mattheo rolls onto his side, amused and far too pleased with himself. "Careful, love," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. "I might start to think you actually like me."

You scoff, turning away. “Doubtful.”

But the way you stay, curled up beside him, says otherwise.