Dean Di Laurentis had never thought of himself as a jealous person.

Jealousy implied scarcity. It implied there was something out there you couldn't get, couldn't keep, couldn't compete with. Dean had spent most of his life moving through the world with the easy confidence of somebody who'd never had to wonder whether people wanted him around. Hockey, girls, friends, grades he had it all. Things had a tendency of working out for him.

Which was why the feeling currently eating through his ribcage felt so deeply offensive.

You stood at the bar smiling at some guy Dean had never seen before while he leaned in too close, touching your arm like he already knew you. Dean hated him immediately.

Which was irrational. You weren't his girlfriend. That had been clear from the beginning. Casual sex, nothing exclusive. No expectations. No messy relationship drama.

At first, it was exactly that.

Then it became movie nights and sleeping over. Dumb texts during class. Dean automatically looking for you after practice. Somewhere along the line, he'd stopped hooking up with other girls without even noticing he'd done it.

Now as he was standing across a crowded room watching another guy make you laugh and realizing he might've made a catastrophic mistake.

"You look miserable." Dean glanced sideways as Beau appeared beside him.

"I'm fine."

"Right." Beau took the beer from Dean's hand, sniffed it, then frowned. "This thing's warm. How long have you been standing here?"

Dean ignored the question.

Beau followed his gaze toward the bar and immediately understood. "Oh, this is bad."

"It's not bad."

"You've been staring at them long enough that I started feeling uncomfortable for everybody involved."

Dean rubbed a hand over his jaw. Across the room, your fingers brushed the guy's shoulder while you smiled up at him.

Something unpleasant twisted low in his stomach.

Beau noticed immediately. "There it is."

Dean glanced at him. "What?"

A grin spread across Beau's face. "You're jealous bro."

Dean almost laughed. "I'm not jealous."

"You absolutely are." Beau looked delighted by this discovery. "This is incredible."

"It's really not."

"No, it is. You've spent four years acting emotionally unavailable and now you're standing in a corner staring at one girl like a Victorian widow."

Dean snorted despite himself.

Beau shook his head slowly. "You know the funniest part?"

"What?"

"She's doing it on purpose."

Dean frowned. "Doing what on purpose?"

Beau stared at him for a long second. "You cannot be serious."

Dean's confusion must've been genuine because Beau suddenly looked deeply embarrassed on his behalf.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered. "Okay. Guy touches her, she looks over here. Guy makes her laugh, she looks over here. She's checking whether you're watching every five seconds."

Dean blinked.

Across the room, almost as if she'd felt him looking, your eyes lifted.

They found him immediately.

Then you smiled at the guy beside you again.

Slowly, understanding settled in.

"Oh."

Beau pointed at him triumphantly. "There he is."

A laugh escaped Dean before he could stop it.

You were trying to make him jealous.

And judging by the way he'd spent the last half hour internally spiraling over some random guy at the bar, it was working perfectly.

Something warm settled in his chest then, smoothing out the irritation.

Because if you wanted him jealous, that meant you cared whether he reacted.

Dean rolled his shoulders and crossed the room before blowing a kiss to Beau and a silent thank you.

You noticed him coming immediately. He saw it in the slight shift of your expression before you smoothed it away behind another sip of your drink.

He turned to the guy with a warm grin instead. "Hey, man. Dean." Handshake, genuine. "Good to see you here."

"Evan," the guy said, easy. "Great party, man."

"Right?" Dean leaned against the bar on your other side, unbothered, and smiled at Evan. "Hey—" he said, casual, like it was an afterthought, "—mind if I steal her for a minute?"