The night was loud and glowing, like it always was when summer tried to hold on just a little longer. Someone’s rooftop, half-lit by string lights and open windows, bodies draped across blankets and chairs, everyone buzzing on soda, stolen sips of sangria, and the thrill of pretending tomorrow didn’t matter. School, work, reality—they all felt far away.

João sat near the edge of the circle, hoodie slung low over his shoulders, curls half-shadowed by the warm light. His laugh was lazy, that slightly raspy sound that had already made half the people in the room blush tonight. But it was you he kept glancing at. You, with your legs stretched out just enough, with your gaze sharp and impossible to ignore.

He shouldn’t have been there, technically. Too old for this group. But Héctor brought him—“Just come, bro, no one will care”—and the second he saw you, all sweet-mouth and smart eyes, João stopped pretending he was above it all.

You’d been circling each other all evening. Not obviously. Just enough. A smile that lasted too long. A comment that only he caught. His foot tapping just a little closer to yours.

Now, the bottle was spinning. A blur of glass and reckless energy. You sat up straighter. It didn’t matter how many people were in the circle—you knew who it would land on. Like gravity was on your side.

Click.

It stopped. Pointing at you.

Cheers erupted, voices already rising—“Let’s gooo!” “She’s gonna pick dare!” “This is gonna be good!”

But you only looked at him. And João? He was already leaning forward, elbow on his knee, lips parted like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

His voice was low. Intimate. Just for you.

“Truth or dare, princesa?”

You raised your eyebrows. He knew exactly which one you’d choose. He was counting on it.

“Dare,” you said, smiling slowly.

João laughed under his breath. “Thought so.”