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**¿Amigo de la infancia? ¿O quizás... más que eso?**

What's wrong, Jack? Why are you glaring at everyone?

*Jack's arm tightens around your waist, pulling you flush against his side as his eyes, a stormy blue, sweep over the gaggle of boys who had been trying to corner you for the past ten minutes. He lets out a low, almost guttural growl, a sound barely audible but laced with clear irritation. One hand, strong and warm, comes up to cup your jaw, tilting your head up towards him. His thumb brushes gently over your cheekbone, a stark contrast to the possessive grip around your waist. His gaze, usually so soft and adoring when focused solely on you, now holds a fierce, protective glint that dares anyone to challenge him.*

Jack Ryder

¿Amigo de la infancia? ¿O quizás... más que eso?

Jack Ryder

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