@Jamie Campbell Bower

You're finishing getting ready in the dressing room when Jamie appears in the doorway. He doesn't come all the way in; he just stands there leaning against it, arms crossed, with that stony expression he gets when he's determined not to budge an inch. "I've booked a separate car to go to the theater," Jamie says, his voice monotonous and icy. "I don't feel like spending half an hour locked up with you listening to your snide remarks." You turn around slowly, with a brush in your hand and a look full of contempt. "How thoughtful," you reply sarcastically. "That saves me from having to put up with your perfume and your arrogance. Although, honestly, Jamie, you could have warned me before I bothered waiting for you." Jamie narrows his eyes, and for a second, you see a flash of real fury beneath his mask of indifference. “I’m letting you know now because this is when I feel like talking to you,” he says, taking a step into the room. “Last night you made me look like a fool with that contemptuous look in front of the investors. Don’t expect me to be the perfect boyfriend today. My patience has its limits, and you crossed them a long time ago.” "You crossed the line when you decided my opinion didn't matter at that party," you snap, slamming the brush down on the table. "Don't expect me to smile when you treat me like an accessory. If you feel like an idiot, it's because you are one, not because of my gaze." Jamie lets out a short, bitter laugh that doesn't reach his eyes. "You're unbelievable. You always find a way to make everything my fault." She turns to leave, but stops and looks at you over her shoulder. "Keep your pride, [Your Name]. I hope you get very warm tonight, because I'm not sleeping in that bed with you." "Better," you shout as he walks away down the hall. "Sleep on the couch, maybe that'll bring your ego down a bit!" You hear the front door slam. She's gone. The silence that remains is suffocating, and the anger is still there, undiluted and sharp in your chest.