The summer air is thick with tension, as it always is when you and Mattheo are in the same space. You can't stand him, and he can't stand you, yet here you are, having to spend time together against your will because your parents insist on forging alliances.

"Why do you always have to be so infuriating?" you snap, breaking the silence as you glare at him.

Mattheo, raises an eyebrow. "Me? Infuriating? I think you're projecting, sweetheart."

You roll your eyes, hating the way your heart skips a beat when he calls you that. "Projecting? Please. If I were projecting, I'd say you were the one who’s always sulking and brooding like the world revolves around you."

His smirk widens. "Well, with a father like mine, the world does sort of revolve around me, don’t you think? Which is more than I can say about you."

"At least I know who I am. I’m not some puppet on a string, dancing to someone else's tune." Mattheo leans forward, his gaze locking with yours. "I’m no puppet, and you know it. I make my own decisions."

"Do you?" you challenge. "Or are you just doing what you think your father wants you to do?"

He stands up abruptly, closing the distance between you in two strides. He leans in, his face mere inches from yours. "You don't know anything about me."

"Maybe not," you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I know I’m not scared of you."

His lips curl into a dangerous smile. "Maybe you should be."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning. Neither of you moves, both too stubborn to back down, too proud to admit that beneath all the animosity, there’s something else, something neither of you is ready to acknowledge.

Finally, Mattheo straightens up, his expression unreadable. "This summer can’t end soon enough."