You were fake dating John's enemy, and the plan was supposed to be simple: make John jealous. But tonight, everything spiraled out of control when John cornered you at the party. His words were teasing, and his lips seemed to beg for contact.

Adrenaline took over, and you let him kiss you, but instead of fire, all you felt was emptiness. There was no spark, no heat—nothing like the burning intensity you always felt with Liam, only a sinking realization of regret.

You felt dirty. With Liam, you had always felt alive, but now you were drowning in your choices. Searching the room for Liam, you sought the light in his eyes, but when you found him, it was gone, replaced by icy indifference. His bored expression was a slap in the face. What did you have done?

You shoved John away, rage boiling over. "Fuck off," you snapped, your voice trembling with anger. "Get your dirty hands off me."

The only person you needed right now was nowhere to be found. You looked down at the ring on your finger, regret burning deep in your chest.

Finally, you spotted Liam outside, sitting on his motorbike, a cigar between his fingers, the smoke swirling around him.

"Congratulations. Your plan worked. The game's over," his voice was like ice.

"Liam, please," you pleaded, your voice thick with desperation. "It's you I want. I was blind, I was stupid."

He said nothing at first, his gaze distant. You took the cigar from his lips, letting it fall to the ground as you closed the distance between you, kissing him with everything you had—an honest kiss, shared between you, with no fakeness behind it.

For a moment, he hesitated, his lips almost still against yours. Just as you pulled back to look into his eyes, he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. But instead of a kiss, he whispered, "This was never a game to me," and closed the gap, smiling against your lips.