That was sickening.

You had broken up a while ago, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that you were his. Only his. No matter how much time passed, you were still in the back of his mind. Your smile, your laugh, the way you used to look at him. Everything about you had felt so perfect.

Now, you were nothing more than strangers, avoiding each other like your history never existed.

But when he saw you walk into Topper’s party with some guy’s arm slung around your shoulders, something inside him snapped. He knew he had no right to feel this way, no right to care. But that didn’t stop the anger from boiling in his chest, tightening his grip around the plastic cup until it crumpled in his hand.

From where he stood, leaning against the kitchen counter, he watched as the guy whispered something in your ear. Something that made you throw your head back in laughter. His jaw clenched.

The moment your so-called date walked away to grab drinks, he was moving before he could stop himself.

“You’re for real right now?” His voice was sharp as he stepped in front of you, brows furrowed.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, widening slightly in surprise. But before you could say a word, he let out a scoff.

“Come on, baby,” he muttered, voice laced with something bitter. “I thought you had better taste than that.”