You were getting ready to study, already surrounded by open books and notes, when you reached up to tie your hair back — only to realize your hair tie was missing. You frowned. That was odd. You always had at least one on you. You patted your pockets, checked your desk, even looked under a notebook… nothing.

You glanced around the room, a bit frustrated — and then your eyes landed on him.

Mattheo was leaning against the open window, cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the cold air. And there, wrapped snugly around his wrist, was your hair tie.

You narrowed your eyes. “Give it back.”

He looked over at you with a smirk, then casually took another drag. “Nope. It’s mine now.”

You walked over, arms crossed. “What do you mean, yours? You took it yesterday when—” You stopped mid-sentence, realizing exactly what you were about to say — and how obvious it would sound.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “When?” he asked, that crooked smile creeping onto his lips.

Your face warmed as you looked away, biting your lip, suddenly very aware of the memory from the night before — during intense make out when he’d slid the tie off your wrist, claiming he’d “just borrow it,” and never gave it back.