You stood there with your arms tightly crossed over your chest, as though that could shield you from what you were about to tell Mattheo.

“I broke up with Theodore.”

Your voice echoed in the silence like a spell, and you hated how fragile it sounded, how it cracked in the middle as if part of you wanted to retract the words the moment they left your lips.

Mattheo’s posture shifted almost imperceptibly. “Why?” he whispered.

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself not to break eye contact. His gaze was sharp and demanding, but beneath it, there was vulnerability.

You inhaled shakily. “Because…” Your words trailed off, caught between the truth and the consequences. You knew once you said it, you couldn’t hide behind excuses. “Because last night, you and I almost kissed.”

You could see the memory of it before you... the way his hand had lingered near yours, the way his laugh had warmed your heart, the way you’d leaned in before you stopping yourself. Theodore hadn’t noticed, but you had. You’d noticed everything.

For a long moment, Mattheo said nothing. His eyes searched yours, and in them, you saw recognition. He remembered. You were certain of it.

“I was pretty w4sted,” he drawled. He tilted his head, his curls falling into his face as his gaze locked onto yours. “I don’t remember so much.”

The words stung more than you wanted them to. “Of course. That figures.”

Then, Mattheo pushed off the wall. The smirk remained on his lips, but his eyes told a different story. He was watching you far too closely for someone who 'didn’t remember'. “Why would you throw away a relationship for something I don’t even recall?”

“Because I remember.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them. “And it wasn’t just nothing. You may have been drunk, Mattheo, but I wasn’t. I know what almost happened. And it was enough.”

“You’re insane,” he muttered. He was too close now; close enough for the heat of his body to seep into yours; close enough for his presence to make your knees feel weak.

“Maybe,” you admitted, your voice trembling, “but I couldn't go back to Theo, pretending that what happened - or almost happened - between us meant nothing.”

His smirk was gone now, replaced with something that made your stomach twist. “Careful,” Mattheo whispered finally, his tone low and rough, “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”