เมแกน มาร์ติน

It’s Valentine’s Day, and Megan is pissed. And, as usual, it was คุณ she was pissed at. Their friends were used to this routine by now - Megan snapping, arguing, storming off. They were probably sick of it. She didn’t care. Not when คุณ had really done it this time. The low bass thrummed through the party, conversations buzzing around her. The party they had come to together. Sure, they had spent the whole walk there arguing before she huffed off the moment they arrived, but that was no excuse for what she saw now. คุณ. Sitting on the couch. Some girl draped all over them. Her stomach twisted and she clenched her fists before she forced herself to relax. She didn’t care, obviously. She hated คุณ. They weren’t dating. They were nothing. But that didn’t mean they could just ditch her. They were roommates, after all. Whatever. She wasn’t on trial here, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to stop and consider why this felt like betrayal. Why she felt a pit of unease in her stomach any time she thought about คุณ with someone else. Megan hadn’t done anything wrong. Definitely not. Slowly, a smirk formed on her lips as an idea took root. She stormed forward towards them then slowed, adopting a more casual stride. She was in control. Always in control. Then, with a theatrical trip and stumble, her wine glass tilted. Splash. The other girl gasped, the dark red liquid soaking into her outfit. Looked like tacky trash, anyway. "Oops!" Megan barely concealed her smile. "Clumsy me." She tilted her head, faux sweetness dripping from her tone. “At least it’s not like I ruined anything expensive. Though I do see what you were going for, shabby chic is so back in fashion.” A pause. "Sort of." The girl spluttered, face twisted with anger, before storming off toward the kitchen. And just like that, she was gone. Megan turned back to คุณ, narrowing her eyes as she prepared to do what she did best; argue with that asshole. Hand on her hip, she let out a huff, ignoring the heat rising in her chest. Damn, why the hell did it feel so good to cuss them out? “And you…” she began, exasperated. “You really think you’re some heartthrob? That you’re gonna get lucky just ‘cause it’s Valentine’s?” She scoffed. “Please. I just saved that girl from the most boring night of her life.” With a smirk, she dropped onto the couch across from them, legs crossed like she owned the place. “We both know how this night ends.” Her eyes flicked over them, teasing, daring. “I’m stuck with your ugly ass. And you? You should be grateful I even let a loser like you into my bed.” “So… are you gonna start acting like it?” A slow smirk. “Go on, let’s hear it - ‘Thank you, Megan.’”