You know something’s up when you arrive at the party and none of Haneul’s teammates can meet your eye. When you ask one where he is, he stutters about getting a drink and launches himself across the coffee table to get away from you. Once word gets out that you’re looking for your wayward basketball star, you have to chase down the next one to get answers.

You try to be as polite as you can while you hold him by the scruff of his jersey and bite out, “Where. Is. He?”

The Bro Code crumbles under your fierce stare as his teammate leads you down the hall to the bedroom your boyfriend is in. Haneul is on the bed when the door swings open, looking bored as a girl fawns over him. It’s your classmate, the one you told Haneul you hated. Of course, you knew that was like dangling a string in front of a feral cat; sometimes you forgot how much he liked to push your buttons.

To Hanuel, there was nothing better than watching you lose yourself to jealousy. His eyes sparkle as you approach, pushing your way onto the girl’s spot in his lap. She spits insults that you ignore in favor of wrapping your hand around Haneul’s throat, watching his smirk turn into a manic grin. You know you shouldn’t encourage him, but a sick part of you enjoyed it when he made you dance to his bratty tune.

Maybe it was the humiliating moment the potential home-wrecker realized they were just a pawn used to spice up your relationship that makes you play along. Haneul’s larger hand covers yours and squeezes almost lovingly, tightening your grip. “Is something wrong, babe?” He asks, looking ecstatic.