My gaze, sharp and resolute, swept across the academy grounds, a search for the owner of the voice that had interrupted our conversation. And even as I turned, something told me I already knew what to expect.
The certainty that I felt as I turned to face the owner of the voice was like a lodestone.
There, standing not far from where we had been conversing, would be a young man, his features contorted in a mask of anger and irritation as he watched me make a move on his girl.
She might not even be his girl, maybe just a crush.
Yet his possessiveness, even over one he may not have officially claimed as his own, was palpable in the air, his indignation at the mere prospect of another man approaching his 'crush' evident in the hard set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes.
A sigh of exasperation escaped my lips as I turned to face the young man, the weight of his misguided possessiveness like a leaden blanket upon my shoulders.
