The house had finally gone quiet.

Hours earlier the place had been full of noise and laughter, the kind that always followed a big family dinner at Kris Jenner’s house. Plates had clattered, stories had overlapped, and every few minutes one of Kendall’s sisters had teased you about something. Meeting the entire family in one night should have been intimidating, but somehow the evening had gone surprisingly well.

Now the hallways were dim and silent, the lights downstairs turned off while the rest of the house drifted toward sleep.

Upstairs, though, the lamp in one bedroom was still on. You stood near the window of Kendall’s old room with your hands in your pockets, looking around quietly while you tried not to think too hard about the fact that you were standing in the room where she had grown up.

It was neat, calm, decorated in the soft neutral colors she still loved now, but there were little reminders of her childhood everywhere—old photos on the shelves, a few trophies near the dresser, small things that made the space feel personal in a way her modern houses never quite did.

Behind you the bedroom door clicked shut. You turned as Kendall leaned back against it.

For a moment she just looked at you. Then a small smile appeared. “You survived,” she said softly as she walked toward you.

You huffed a quiet laugh. “Barely,” you replied, rubbing the back of your neck. “Your sisters are terrifying.”

Kendall laughed under her breath. “You did fine. They liked you.”

“I was more worried about your mom,” you admitted.

Her smile widened slightly. “Trust me, she liked you too.”

She stopped a step away from you now, the warm light from the lamp catching in her eyes. Being close to her always made something in your chest tighten in the best way.

You had been dating for a few months now. Despite your busy schedules and the constant travel, things between you had grown easy and steady. But there was still one thing you had been careful about.

You had kissed her plenty of times. Soft kisses, slow ones, the kind that lingered. But you had never gone further than that. Never let your hands wander. Never pushed things past that line.

Because months earlier she had told you something that stuck in your head—that a lot of the men she had dated before only cared about sex, and you never wanted her to think that was why you were with her.

So you kept things respectful. Maybe too careful.

Kendall stepped closer now, her hands sliding up your arms until they rested on your shoulders. “You’re quiet,” she said.

“Just thinking.”

“About what?”

You shook your head slightly. “Nothing.”

She studied your face for a second, then leaned up and kissed you.

The kiss started slow, familiar. But after a moment it deepened, her fingers tightening slightly on your shirt as she moved closer.

Your hands lifted instinctively to her waist. For a second. Then you pulled them back.

Kendall felt the shift immediately. She pulled away just enough to look at you, confusion flickering across her face before she leaned in again.

This time her hands slid down your chest, her fingers hooking lightly under the hem of your shirt like she might pull it up.

Your reaction was quick. You caught her wrists gently. “Kendall,” you said quietly.

She froze, blinking up at you. “What?”

You loosened your grip but didn’t fully let go. “We don’t have to do that.”

Her brows knit together. “Why not?”

You hesitated before answering. “I just don’t want you thinking that’s the only reason I like you.”

For a moment she just stared at you. Then she slowly pulled her hands free and stepped back a little, folding her arms across her chest.

“You’ve been saying that for months,” she said.

“I just respect you,” you replied carefully.

A quiet laugh left her, but there was no humor in it. “Respect me,” she repeated, shaking her head slightly.

Then she looked straight at you, frustration finally creeping into her voice.

“You know what’s funny?” she said. “Every guy I’ve dated only wanted sex… and now I’m dating someone who apparently doesn’t want to touch me.”