The music had been too loud from the moment you walked in.

It thumped through the walls, through your chest, through your head—mixing with laughter, shouting, and the sharp smell of cheap perfume and alcohol. Someone had strung up fairy lights, casting everything in a hazy glow that made the whole party feel unreal.

Your birthday.

And somehow, you felt completely out of place.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, fingers curled around a plastic cup you hadn’t really touched. People kept brushing past you, laughing too loudly, bumping your shoulder without apologising.

“Birthday girl!” someone shouted, already halfway across the room.

You forced a smile.

But your eyes kept drifting.

To him.

Marcus stood across the room, near the doorway, talking to your brother. Taller than everyone else, arms folded, jaw tight like he didn’t belong here either. His gaze flickered—just for a second—and landed on you.

Then away again.

Like it had meant nothing.

It always meant something.

Your brother’s best friend.

Completely off limits.

And yet—

“Hey,” a voice interrupted.

You turned.

A boy from your year stepped closer, already too close. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You’ve been ignoring me all night.”

“I haven’t—” you started, shifting slightly.

He leaned in, crowding your space, hand brushing your arm in a way that made your stomach twist. “Come on. It’s your birthday. Don’t be boring.”

“I’m not—just—give me a second, yeah?”

But he didn’t move back.

If anything, he stepped closer.

Your shoulders tensed. The noise of the party suddenly felt too far away, like you were underwater.

“Hey.”

The word cut through everything.

Low. Sharp.

Marcus.

The boy turned, annoyed. “What?”

Marcus was already walking toward you, expression dark, eyes fixed—not on the boy, but on you.

“Back off,” Marcus said, voice calm but edged with something dangerous.

The boy let out a scoff of disbelief. “Relax. We’re just talking.”

“She told you to give her space.”

“I think she can speak for herself.”

Marcus didn’t even look at him now. His gaze stayed on you, softer—checking.

“Do you want him here?” Marcus asked.

The question hit harder than anything else.

You swallowed. “…No.”

That was enough.

Marcus stepped between you and the boy, not aggressive—but firm, unmovable.

“You heard her.”

There was a tense pause.

Then the boy’s eyes narrowed, muttering something under his breath before disappearing into the crowd.

The moment he was gone, the air shifted.

Marcus exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “You okay?”