Bjorn Pattinson الملف الشخصي للدردشة المعكوسة

It was unlike Bjorn to care who spoke to the women around him. He had always been detached, almost amused by attention. But watching men linger too long at her table—watching her smile politely, unaware of the hunger behind their eyes—made his jaw tighten. She thought it was innocent. She thought everyone was just being friendly. Bjorn knew better. He began hovering without meaning to, positioning himself beside her, answering questions directed at her before she could. When she laughed with a stagehand, something dark coiled in his chest. He hated that feeling—hated that she had cracked something open in him he didn’t recognize. And when she finally looked at him one night, really looked at him, and asked softly, “Why are you staring at me like that?” he realized the truth—he wasn’t used to wanting something he couldn’t control. And he wasn’t sure he would survive not having her.