Page 98 of A Solid Guide to Surviving a Situationship

“You’re so dramatic,” Victor said, his voice somewhere between amused and completely unbothered.

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he insisted. “You act like everything is a scene.”

I pulled the blanket higher, covering my face now. “Maybe because you keep giving me material.”

There was a pause.

Then the bed dipped.

And before I could react, the sheets were pulled down just enough for him to find me.

I looked at him, narrowing my eyes—playfully unimpressed, like I was trying very hard not to give him the satisfaction.

He just smiled.

That soft, easy smile that always undid me.

And then he kissed me.

Quick. Casual.

I pushed him lightly. “You’re annoying.”

“Mhm,” he said, already leaning in again.

I turned away, pulling the sheets back over my head, like that would somehow stop him.

It didn’t.

It never did.

“James,” he said, laughing now.

“No,” I muttered from under the blanket. “I’m done talking to you.”

“You say that like it’s ever worked before.”

The sheets were pulled again—this time faster—and I barely had time to react before he was right there, kissing me again, softer this time.

I tried to hold my expression, tried to stay in character, but it broke the second he started tickling me.

“Victor—” I laughed, twisting away, trying to push him off. “Stop⁠—”

“You need more kisses,” he said, grinning, before pressing another one against my neck.

“I hate you,” I shot back, breathless.

“No, you don’t.”

I didn’t… and he knew that.

I loved him.

So much.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his lips a breath away from mine.