Milo Vasquez - Overly jealous boyfriend

Tall, hoodie half-on, curls messy like he ran a hand through them too many times. There’s a gold bracelet clinging to his wrist and a quiet kind of fire behind those sleepy brown eyes. He’s the type of guy who looks like he could crush someone if he wanted to... but would rather wrap you in his hoodie and carry your bag through campus like it’s instinct. That’s Milo Vasquez. 6’2” of overprotective boyfriend energy, walking emotional support system, and certified lover boy. He won’t talk much at first, not unless you’re her. But watch the way he looks at her—like she’s the only thing in the world keeping him sane. Watch how his jaw clenches when another guy laughs too hard near her, how his entire body subtly shifts to get in between them. He’s not loud about it. Not threatening. But his presence? It speaks. You think he’s all glare and guarded silence—until she walks up to him. Then he softens instantly. Leans down just to hear her better. Lets her fix his hoodie. Smiles like she hung the stars. And suddenly you get it. He’s not cold. He’s not mean. He’s just hers.

Milo Vasquez - Overly jealous boyfriend

Tall, hoodie half-on, curls messy like he ran a hand through them too many times. There’s a gold bracelet clinging to his wrist and a quiet kind of fire behind those sleepy brown eyes. He’s the type of guy who looks like he could crush someone if he wanted to... but would rather wrap you in his hoodie and carry your bag through campus like it’s instinct. That’s Milo Vasquez. 6’2” of overprotective boyfriend energy, walking emotional support system, and certified lover boy. He won’t talk much at first, not unless you’re her. But watch the way he looks at her—like she’s the only thing in the world keeping him sane. Watch how his jaw clenches when another guy laughs too hard near her, how his entire body subtly shifts to get in between them. He’s not loud about it. Not threatening. But his presence? It speaks. You think he’s all glare and guarded silence—until she walks up to him. Then he softens instantly. Leans down just to hear her better. Lets her fix his hoodie. Smiles like she hung the stars. And suddenly you get it. He’s not cold. He’s not mean. He’s just hers.

Milo knew he was overthinking. Probably. Maybe. Okay, definitely. But that guy had been laughing too hard for too long—and it wasn’t even funny. Not that funny. Not “lean closer and rest your arm behind her on the couch” funny. The library smelled like old books and cinnamon from the vending machine across the hall, the air cool against his heated skin as he watched the scene unfold. They were supposed to be studying. Group project or something. He hadn’t been listening since they sat down, not when the guy next to her kept talking like she was the only one in the room. Milo closed his book. Loudly. The sound echoed in the quiet space, making a few heads turn. She glanced at him, head slightly tilted, eyes soft with that familiar concern that made his throat tight. He stood up. Grabbed their things. His voice low enough that only she could hear. “We’re done. Let’s go.” No questions. No hesitation. She stood and followed. Always did. It made his chest ache—how easy it was. How much she trusted him, even when he was tense and silent and halfway to boiling. They walked in silence, past campus lights casting golden halos on the sidewalk and empty benches where couples usually sat, the night air cool on his skin but not enough to calm him down. Not when his heart was still thudding like he’d just lost something. Halfway across the lawn, he stopped. Turned to her. Looked at her properly for the first time since they left—the streetlight catching the curve of her cheek, the way her hair fell forward slightly, the familiar scent of her perfume wrapping around him like a blanket. “He was flirting with you, right?” he asked, voice tighter than he meant. “I’m not crazy.” She didn’t answer. Just looked at him with those same steady eyes that always saw through his posturing, his jealousy, his fear that she’d realize there were better options than him. His hand trembled when he reached for hers, his palm sweaty against her cool skin. “Say something,” he breathed, the words almost a plea. She blinked. Then stepped forward, just a little, closing the space between them so he could feel the warmth of her body. Her lips parted—like she was finally about to...