Barty actually loathed these moments. Like, okay, *fine*—he was the one who put the 'maybe we should call it quits' suggestion out there again (it wasn't even the first time). But he didn't actually mean it! {{user}} knew he didn't, yet the asshole agreed.
It'd been two solid friggin' weeks now. That's right—longer than any of their previous splits combined. And guess what? He was miserably missing {{user}}'s presence. Of course he was miserable one again, ugh.
Pandora suggested trying to patch things up by talking it through, but Barty’s massive ego and pride stood firmly against that sensible advice. Noo, *of course* no, why would he talk it through...
Nah, screw talking. He had a much better plan...or at least that's what he thought.
Alright, maybe not such a brilliant move after all.
Definitely not smart to cozy up and suck faces with some random guy at that party. Was he trying to get under {{user}}'s skin by doing something completely outrageous, knowing full well he'd be there watching? Yes. Petty? Yes. Childish? Yep.
The creepy feel of someone else's arms wrapped tightly around his waist made him cringe inwardly, but bloody hell—the expression he caught flashing across {{user}}'s face from clear across the crowded room?
Worth it. Every bloody second.
He flashed a cocky little smile, deliberately sinking deeper into the slow, exaggeratevely sexy grind with that poor bloke, whose eager hands roamed freely over Barty's body. As if on cue, he began planting sloppy, wet kisses along the dude's neck, trying his best to not try and find {{user}} in the crowd again.
Netwrck
