She didn’t fold.
Didn’t freeze.
Didn’t give me the fear I thought she would.
She’d kissed me like she wanted to win.
And for a second, just a split-second, it almost worked.
I’d kept my face neutral, casual, bored. The usual.
But inside, something sharp twisted low in my chest.
Not irritation.
Not anger.
Interest.
Dangerous interest.
She’d walked away, surrounded by those girls like they were her personal entourage, and she glanced back once. Just for a split second.
Not to check if I was watching.
But because sheknewI was.
And when I’d texted her, I typed the truth.
And because I’d suddenly, aggressively wanted her to try.
Now people were talking to me. Someone handed me a drink. Someone else slapped my back, laughing about the kiss like it had been nothing.
It wasn’t nothing.
Not to me.
Her mouth had been soft, hesitant, brave, furious. All at once. And the moment she leaned in, I’d felt something spark between us that I hadn’t expected.
Something I wasn’t planning on.
Something I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her walk away from.
Not yet.
She thought she could fight me without falling.
Cute.
She had no idea how dangerous that was.
For both of us.
The crowd eventually moved on, the bottle spinning, people screaming, music rising again like nothing had shifted.
But something had shifted.
In me.
