[CHAPTER 10]

───🦋･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.🦋───

───🦋･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.🦋───

TITLE : A DANGEROUS GAME

ELLIE HAD ALWAYS CONSIDERED herself rational.

She made plans. She followed them.

And yet, right now, she felt completely out of control.

Lorenzo  had admitted his feelings. She should be happy.

But instead, she felt like she was standing on a thin sheet of ice, and with every step forward, a crack formed beneath her feet.

She wasn't sure which terrified her more—the fact that Lorenzo  finally liked her back, or the fact that she didn't care as much as she should.

Or maybe—just maybe—the fact that Mattheo was starting to look at her differently.

—

For the next few days, Ellie tried to act normal.

She told herself that nothing had changed.

She was still fake-dating Mattheo. She still had a goal.

And yet, she could feel the difference.

The way Mattheo's touches lingered a little longer.

The way his voice softened when he spoke to her.

The way her heart did an annoying little flip whenever he smirked at her.

This is a problem.

—

They were in the library when things really started to unravel.

Ellie was supposed to be studying, but her mind was miles away.

She kept replaying Mattheo's words from the other night—You don't have to pretend anymore.

What had he meant?

Had he noticed the shift between them?

Did he feel it too?

"Oi."

A quill poked her cheek.

She blinked up, startled.

Mattheo was smirking, resting his chin on his palm. "Where'd you go just now?"

Ellie hesitated. "Nowhere."

Mattheo hummed, unconvinced.

"You've been weird lately," he said. "Weirder than usual."

"I have not."

"You have."

He reached out, gently flicking her forehead.

She swatted his hand away, scowling. "I hate when you do that."

"Liar," he said easily.

And the annoying part?

He wasn't wrong.

Because somewhere along the way, Mattheo's casual touches had stopped being annoying and had started feeling... different.

Something had shifted between them.

And it wasn't just her who noticed it.

—

It became even more obvious at Quidditch practice.

Mattheo had been off his game.

Not in a way anyone else would notice—but Ellie noticed.

He was distracted. Unfocused.

And it had everything to do with her.

Because every time he glanced at her, his grip on his broom tightened.

Every time she laughed with someone else, his jaw clenched.

And when practice ended and she walked toward the changing rooms, he caught her wrist, stopping her.

"Ellie."

She turned, blinking up at him.

Something about the way he was looking at her made her heart race.

"What?"

Mattheo hesitated.

Then, in a low voice, he said, "We need to talk."

—

Ellie followed Mattheo to a quiet corner of the locker room.

The air between them was charged.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling. "I need to ask you something."

Ellie swallowed. "Okay."

A pause.

Then—

"What are we doing?"

Ellie's breath caught.

Because the way he asked it—the way his voice dropped just slightly—made her nervous.

"I—I don't know what you mean."

Mattheo's eyes flickered over her face, searching.

Then, softly—"Yes, you do."

And she did.

She knew exactly what he was asking.

Because this wasn't fake anymore.

Not really.

Not for her.

And—if she wasn't mistaken—not for him either.

—

They were too close.

Ellie could feel the heat radiating off of him.

She should say something.

She should end this conversation before it went somewhere dangerous.

But instead, she found herself whispering, "I don't know."

Mattheo's expression flickered—just for a second.

Then, slowly, he exhaled, stepping back.

"Right," he said, voice unreadable. "Got it."

And for some reason, that made her chest ache.

Like she had just missed something important.

Like she had just let something slip away.

—

Later that night, as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, she realized something.

She wasn't pretending anymore.

And neither was Mattheo.

They were playing a dangerous game.

And someone was going to get hurt.

───🦋･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.🦋───