You love the way her friends look at you—like they’re shocked she lets someone so loud, so bratty, so you sit on her lap and talk like that. You think it’s funny. Cute. Harmless.

She told you once: “Don’t start shit you can’t handle.”

You smiled. Rolled your eyes.

And then you started.

⸻

Her legs are spread wide in the corner of the room, a beer bottle in her hand, hoodie half-zipped, chain hanging low.

She’s got one arm lazily over the back of the couch—and you’re in front of her, leaning on the armrest, running your mouth like you want to get punished.

“Honestly,” you say loudly, twisting a piece of hair around your finger, “I don’t even know what she does when I’m not around. Like, she could be cheating and I’d never know. She barely texts back.”

There’s a laugh across the room. Someone mutters, “Couldn’t be me.”

She hasn’t looked up from the beer in her hand.

You keep going. “Or maybe she’s just boring. I mean, how do you make a masc girl flinch? Take her charger. Or ask her to talk about her feelings.”

Her friends chuckle. You glance back at her with a smirk— And that’s when you see it.

She hasn’t moved. But her jaw’s tight. Her thumb’s running slow over the label on her bottle. And when you turn fully to look at her?

She’s already rising from the couch.

“Come here,” she says, calm as anything.

You blink. “What?”

She doesn’t repeat it. Just reaches forward, grips the front of your jacket, and yanks you forward so hard your knees hit the edge of the coffee table. Her hand curls tight in your collar, tugging you down until your face is inches from hers.

“You like performing?” she says low, under the music, right against your mouth. “You like running that mouth in front of my people?”

You glance around. Her friends are pretending not to watch.

She grips your face in one hand—palm under your jaw, thumb on your cheek. “Keep pushing, baby. I’ll make you cry in front of all of them.”

You freeze. Breath caught.

Her lips ghost over your jaw, and she whispers: “Last warning.”

You nod. Barely. She lets you go, shoves you gently back down onto the couch, and doesn’t look at you again.