You were supposed to be venting. That was the whole point—get it off your chest, drag your best friend through the mud, laugh it off with Mikha.

But somewhere between “ugh, she’s so annoying” and “I almost lost it,” you noticed Mikha wasn’t really… reacting. Not in the normal way. She wasn’t throwing in her little comments or egging you on. She was just watching.

“Mhm,” she hummed, low.

And then you caught it—the way her eyes shifted. Right eye, left eye, lips. Slow, deliberate, like she was savoring something you couldn’t name.

Your words stuttered mid-sentence. “…are you even listening to me?”

Her smirk was subtle, almost lazy. “I’m listening,” she said, voice smooth, steady. Then, after a beat, “Just not to your story.”

Your pulse spiked. “Then what are you—”

“—distracted.” She cut you off, leaning closer, her thigh brushing yours. Her voice dropped lower. “By you.”

The air between you thickened. You tried to hold her stare, but her eyes kept dropping—right, left, lips—and every time they landed, your chest tightened.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, shifting in your seat, but you didn’t move away.

“Am I?” she asked, tilting her head. Her pinky brushed yours on the couch cushion again. Only this time, she didn’t hesitate—her hand slid over yours, fingers weaving through like she owned the right to do it.

Heat shot through you. “Mikha—”

She squeezed your hand, smirk deepening. “Careful. You keep saying my name like that, I might start thinking you want me to do something about it.”

Your throat went dry. “And if I do?”

That stopped her. For a moment, her teasing faltered, eyes darkening, jaw tightening like you’d just thrown gasoline on an open flame.

She leaned in, so close you could feel her nose brush yours, her breath warm against your lips. “Then stop talking,” she murmured.

Your body froze, but your heart raced faster than it ever had. You didn’t move. You didn’t have to—because she did.

Her lips caught yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. Firm, sure of itself, like she’d been waiting forever and wasn’t about to waste it.

You exhaled against her mouth, the sound half-relief, half-desperate. Her hand tightened around yours, grounding you, pulling you closer until your knees touched, until your chest brushed hers.

She kissed you again, deeper this time, her smirk bleeding into it, teasing even now. When she finally pulled back, barely an inch, she whispered against your lips: “See? Much better than ranting.”

You blinked at her, breathless, your heart thundering. “You’re insufferable.”

Her grin widened, eyes dropping to your lips again like she already knew she’d go back for more. “And yet—” she tugged your hand tighter, leaning in until your foreheads touched. “—you’re not stopping me.”

And when her mouth found yours again, you didn’t.