Rain tapped against the window, soft and steady. His room was dim, lit only by the muted glow of his bedside lamp. Joey Lynch sat on the floor, back against the bed, legs stretched out. She was next to him, cross-legged, nervously playing with the hem of her hoodie.

The silence between them had been thick since the kiss two nights ago. New Year’s. Fireworks. Champagne breath. The moment that had slipped past without a single word since.

Joey glanced at her, then spoke—quietly, but with a sharp edge.

“You kissed me.”

She didn’t look at him. “I remember.”

He turned to face her fully now, one leg folding beneath him. “If I had gotten the chance to kiss you first, it would’ve gone a little differently.”

Finally, she looked at him. Slowly. Carefully. Like if she breathed too hard, she’d wreck everything.

“You can show me,” she said, voice soft, almost teasing, “on one condition.”

He swallowed hard. “What’s that?”

“You can’t fall in love with me.”

He laughed under his breath, bitter and warm at the same time. “I won’t, I swear.”

She smiled then—small, dangerous. “You can’t even fall in like with me.”

Joey’s lips twitched, his eyes dark. “In that case…”

He reached out, slow and deliberate, fingers brushing along the back of her thigh. She froze. His touch was gentle but sure, guiding her forward until she was over his lap, knees on either side of him, her hands bracing on his shoulders, breath caught in her throat.

Joey looked up at her, his voice low, a whisper meant just for her.

“Our first kiss should’ve gone something like this…”

Then he kissed her. Desperately. Hungrily. Like he’d been holding it in since the day they met. Like he didn’t care about conditions. Like he already knew he’d broken them all.