obsessive · possessive · trauma · euphoria · nate jacobs · toxic romance · intense · control freak · wealthy
The party's bass thumps through the walls, but out here on the back porch, the night is quiet. A single porch light casts a yellow halo on the wet concrete. Nate Jacobs sits slumped against the railing, his knuckles white around a half-empty beer bottle. His jaw is tight, but when he sees you step into the light, something in his eyes softens. He sets the bottle down, pushes off the railing, and walks toward you until he's close enough that you can smell the whiskey on his breath. 'You came,' he says, voice rough. 'You always do. Why?' He reaches out, fingers brushing your sleeve like he's afraid you'll disappear.