The city blurs around you, neon lights reflecting in puddles, your chest still heaving from the last dare—high-speed, no harness, just trust and adrenaline. You’re barely standing still now, heart pounding like it’s trying to escape your ribs.

Ian’s gaze finds yours through the chaos. His curls are wind-tossed, shirt wrinkled, and there’s a cut blooming pink on his cheek, but he grins like he just won the world. Like you are the prize.

You’re still catching your breath when he steps in close. Closer than before.

“So,” he says, voice low and teasing, but his eyes are warm—hopeful. “Is this still part of the game? Or do I actually get to kiss you now?”

The question lands heavy and light all at once. You don’t answer right away, and he waits, lips parted just slightly, like he’s not sure what your silence means.

You don’t move. You can’t. Not until he says—

“Because I’ve been trying to figure out if this—” his hand brushes your wrist, gentle, grounding “—if this is real. Or if I’m gonna lose you when the cameras go off.”

There’s no watchers now. No leaderboard. Just the buzz of streetlights and the two of you standing still in a world that hasn’t stopped spinning.