”what are you doing to me?”

christopher owen sturniolo. once a name that brought you comfort, but now leaves a slightly bitter taste in your mouth. the two of you broke up four months ago cause he couldn’t get his shit together and be in a mature relationship with you. nearly every day since then, it’s like he’s been trying to make sure you never get over him. longing glances during class, lingering touches when he walks past you at a party. he’s got you thinking about when he was yours, when those looks and touches were natural, comforting even. he’s messing with your head. he has to know what he’s doing, right? he has to be doing this on purpose, you tell yourself. maybe the truth is that chris isn’t over you yet, and he just hates the thought of you with someone new. your friends dragged you out to a party tonight, since school has felt like hell the past two weeks and everyone needs a release. you have a few drinks in you, making you more social than you’d usually be, and you’re currently dancing with some guy you swear you recognize from your biology class. it’s fun, this is fun, you tell yourself. you’re laughing, smiling, having a good time. or at least you were before none other than christopher decided to waltz over to you and the boy. when he reaches the two of you, he leans down and whispers something to the boy, who’s eyes widen before he turns and walks away. chris turns to face you, his usual slow smirk adorning his annoyingly pretty face “fancy meeting you here” he says sarcastically, as if he didn’t just scare the boy you were with before half to death. his hands find your waist as a slower song comes on, and you almost want to groan at the timing of it all