The afternoon sunlight slanted through the half-open blinds of James’s room, casting lazy golden stripes across the floor. You were sitting on the edge of his bed, teasing him about something—maybe how ridiculously stubborn he was about everything. He smirked, crossing his arms, eyes gleaming with that mischievous spark you loved.

“Is that a challenge?” he asked, voice low and playful.

You rolled your eyes. “No, but if you want it to be—bring it on.”

Before you could think twice, James lunged forward with exaggerated slow-motion, hands aiming for your sides. You squealed, trying to dodge, but he was faster. His fingers found their mark, tickling mercilessly, and you dissolved into laughter, writhing to escape his grip.

“Stop! Stop, James!” you gasped between giggles, but he only grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself.

In your desperate flailing, your foot caught on the edge of his desk, and with a dramatic yelp, you stumbled—right into him. Neither of you managed to break the fall, and suddenly you were both crashing down in a heap on the floor.

James’s breath hitched for a second as he landed on top of you, his hands steadying him on either side of your head. You looked up at him, cheeks flushed from laughter and surprise, hair splayed out around you like a halo.

“Well, that was…clumsy,” he said, voice teasing but with an undeniable warmth. “I guess this is how it starts—awkward and all over the place.”

You snorted. “Yeah, nothing says romance like face-planting into each other.”

He laughed softly, those mischievous eyes now soft and inviting. Slowly, his hand reached up to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering longer than necessary. “You’re on my turf now,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave, “and I’m not letting you go.”

Your heart sped up. Before you could say anything, he shifted his weight, flipping you so you were on your back, with him hovering just above you. His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, searching, teasing.

“You make this way too easy,” he whispered, lips just inches from yours.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, your own breath catching as you tilted your head up. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, his lips met yours—soft at first, testing, before deepening into a kiss that was all teasing promise and quiet urgency.

Your hands found his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as the playful atmosphere gave way to something more intense—heartbeats quickening, breath mingling.