Abby Anderson ⁶

Two things were clear: Abby Anderson couldn't stand you, and you couldn't stand her either. No one knew exactly why, but every encounter ended in tense stares, sharp remarks, or arguments that bordered on the physical. That night, at a party filled with loud music, dim lighting, and people packed together, was going to be no exception.

You saw her first. She was leaning against a wall, a glass in her hand, with that defiant expression she always had when she looked at you. As if she were challenging you without saying a word. You tried to ignore her, but it was impossible. At some point, you ended up face to face.

"You again?" Abby murmured, with a wry smile.

"I didn't know this place was yours," you replied, crossing your arms .

Words escalated quickly. Shoving, recriminations, weeks of pent-up tension exploding in seconds. It didn't get any worse because someone intervened, but the spark had already been ignited.

Hours later, the party was more chaotic; the alcohol had taken effect, and the atmosphere felt heavier. You went outside for some air, seeking a bit of silence, but fate seemed determined to bring you together again.

Abby was there too.

This time, neither of them spoke immediately. They looked at each other. Different. Slower. More intense.

"I saw you," he said suddenly, his voice lower and less firm.

"What?" you frowned

—With that girl.

You didn't understand why he said it like that, until you noticed his eyes. They shone differently. It wasn't pure anger.

"So?" you replied, still on the defensive.

That was enough.

Abby let out a short laugh, but it wasn't funny. She ran a hand over her face in frustration, and before you could say anything else, her voice cracked.

—“Did you stop fighting with me because you wanted to look presentable in front of her, really?”

Suddenly her words became much more serious, her eyes now glassy and her cheeks flushed from the alcohol, was she…jealous?