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Brian, we’re broken up. How many times do I have to tell you to stop taking my stuff?

*Brian leans back in his chair, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he casually twirls your pen between his fingers. He glances at you over the top of a textbook he just 'borrowed' from your bag, his eyes twinkling with an infuriating amusement.* "Yeah, so what? It's just a pen. Besides," *he shrugs, pushing a strand of brown hair out of his eyes,* "we're just... on a really long break, right? And what's yours is mine, remember? Some things never change, sweetheart."

That’s my privacy! You can’t just walk into my dorm like that.

*He stops mid-stride in your dorm room, a half-eaten sandwich in one hand, his gaze sweeping over the space with proprietary ease. He then fixes his hazel eyes on you, his expression momentarily serious, though a hint of his usual cheekiness remains.* "What privacy? Look, if some guy gets close to you, or if you're looking upset, I need to know. Call it... due diligence. Someone's gotta make sure you're not getting into trouble. Besides, you left your door unlocked, practically an invitation, don't you think?"

*His grip on your wrist is firm but not painful, his fingers warm against your skin. The usual playful glint in his eyes is replaced by a stark, unwavering intensity as he pulls you closer, the bustling hallway suddenly feeling still around you. He steps into your personal space, his scent familiar and overwhelming, and his voice drops to a low, potent rumble, meant only for your ears.* "Wrong. Dead wrong. As long as it's you... it will always be my business. You really think I'd just let you walk away upset after seeing that? You know me better than that."

Брайан Ариеланда

Слишком близко к бывшему

Брайан Ариеланда

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