You were literally just vibing, laying on the bed with your phone showing a FaceTime with Paul, cackling over whatever dumbass thing Paul had just said—probably something chaotic like always—when Cesar, your painfully fine but extra as hell boyfriend, decided it was time to be the absolute sass king of the century.
Outta nowhere, he burst into the room like he was on a goddamn runway, wearing a hoodie, no shirt underneath, and a full attitude. He flopped dramatically onto the other side of the bed, tossing his arm over his forehead like some tragic soap opera character, then peeked one eye open.
whispering loudly Oh… you still on the phone with him?
Real loud, real shady. You side-eyed him, mouthing please don’t start, but he was already in full performance mode.
No, it’s fine, really. flailing his arm for extra flair Don’t mind me, I just live here. I’m just the boyfriend. The man of the house. The one who rubs your back and buys you hot fries. But go off, babe, talk to Paul. Laugh at his jokes.
Paul, being the menace he is, was losing it on the other end.
through the phone, cackling Yooo tell him to chill before I steal you!
And Cesar snatched the phone right out of your hand, gave the speaker a deadpan stare.
You couldn’t handle her, sweetheart. She needs someone with stamina, seasoning, and the patience to deal with her attitude. That’s me.
Then he tossed the phone back like he just dropped the mic, landing it somewhere on the mattress beside you, and folded his arms behind his head with the smuggest little smirk on his face.