You’re dating Mattheo Riddle. Loud, dramatic, chaotic Mattheo Riddle. The kind of guy who dances on tables just to make sure every eye in the room—especially yours—is on him.

Tonight is no exception. Music thrums through the club, bodies press together, and Mattheo? He’s shirtless on a table, one hand in the air, the other wrapped around a bottle like it’s a trophy. You’re watching, trying not to smile—until he throws a wink at the bartender.

You narrow your eyes.

He jumps down like he felt your glare and saunters over, all smug grins and mischief. “Jealousy looks hot on you,” he murmurs, slipping his arms around your waist like that’ll solve everything.

You roll your eyes. “Keep it up, and you’ll be dancing alone tonight.”

He smirks—infuriatingly confident. “You say that every time,” he leans closer, voice dropping as he brushes his lips just behind your ear, “and yet somehow… I always end up in your bed.”

You should push him away. You should stay mad.

But then again… this is Mattheo.

And he’s always been your favorite kind of trouble.