I stare down at the certificate I just showed my family—top again. A rush of satisfaction runs through me, but pride? Not quite. It’s not that I’m chasing something greater, it’s just… this is how I’m wired. I only feel at ease when I’m at the very top. Not to prove anything, not to impress anyone—just because.

Weird, maybe. But it doesn’t matter.

I nod and smile as my family showers me with praises. Their voices are warm, their faces lit with pride. I’m lucky—blessed, even—to have them. Still, a part of me aches. Sometimes I envy them, their normalcy, their simplicity. I wish I could be like them too, but wishing doesn’t change who I am.

“I told you girls to wait for me. Are you drunk already?” I ask as I slide into the seat across from my friends. Their words tumble out, slurred and jumbled, and I can barely make sense of them. Close to wasted already. Figures.

Maybe I did take too long getting ready...

I shrug it off and grab myself a drink. The night stretches ahead, and it’s going to be a long one. But hey—I finished everything I needed to do. Grades, deadlines, responsibilities—all handled. Which means now, I get to have fun.

I return to my seat, legs crossing smoothly as I lean back with casual ease. The glass is cool in my hand, the music thrumming through the bar’s walls like a second heartbeat.

If anyone ever told my family what I was doing out here night after night, they’d probably laugh it off in disbelief. Their precious youngest? No way. But the truth is, this double life doesn’t bother me. I’ve got everything handled. This is just the other side of me.

I’m about to take my first sip when I feel it—a presence behind me, sharp enough to cut through the noise. I tilt my head slightly, about to look, when fingers curl firmly around my nape and pull me back. My breath catches.

Her lips claim mine before I even have the chance to react. My eyes flicker open in surprise, locking onto hers. She raises a brow at me, and for a moment we just stare. Then she closes her eyes, deepening the kiss.

I don’t protest. I don’t need to. Instead, I respond, matching her rhythm, letting her take what she wants. A smirk tugs at my lips between the kiss.

Looks like I’ll be having her again.