The summer nights felt endless, electric with secrets and stolen moments. You and Taylor were caught in something forbidden and fragile, but neither of you could stop. It wasn’t meant to be, not really, but there was something addictive in the way you gravitated toward each other. Like moths to a flame, you knew the burn was coming, but neither of you could pull away.

It had started so innocently—a shared glance at a party, her soft laugh carrying across the room, the way her hand lingered a little too long when she passed you a drink. The tension was immediate, undeniable. And yet, it wasn’t simple. Nothing about this was simple.

Taylor’s status, her world, the expectations that loomed over her like a heavy curtain—they made everything feel precarious. But that only made it more thrilling. Every secret kiss, every touch stolen in the dark, felt like a rebellion, like you were carving out a space that only belonged to the two of you.

That night, under the neon haze of summer, you were in her car, the air between you humming with tension. The windows were down, the warm wind tangling in her hair as she drove too fast, her hand resting on your thigh, her touch almost too casual to be innocent.

The radio played softly, a melody you couldn’t quite focus on as your pulse thundered in your ears. Taylor’s profile was illuminated by the passing streetlights, her jaw set with determination, her lips pressed into a line. You couldn’t tell if she was angry, excited, or just bracing herself for what was about to come.

She suddenly pulled over, tires crunching on gravel as she parked on the edge of an empty lot. The silence was deafening for a moment as she turned to look at you, her green eyes glinting with something wild, untamed.

“Do you trust me?” she asked, her voice low, almost daring you to say no.