Layton was sprawled across the battered leather couch in his buddy Xavier’s living room, a half-empty beer dangling from his hand while the game blared on the TV. He looked relaxed, trading sarcastic comments with Xavier... until his phone buzzed.

Your name lit up the screen, and as always, it made something warm flicker in his chest. But the second his eyes skimmed the words, the warmth turned sharp.

“I had such a great date last night 😍.”

His jaw flexed, the muscles in his forearm going tight around the bottle. Protective instinct surged up before he could stop it, anger curling hot and fast in his chest.

You were his best friend, his person and the idea of someone else making you smile like that made his blood run hot.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he muttered, already thumbing a reply, ignoring the look Xavier shot him from across the room. His fingers moved fast, irritation bleeding into every keystroke.

“The fuck you mean, baby? A date? With who?”