Yeah, no—Leyle was real wrong for this one.

Like, damn wrong.

He knew it, too. The second his hand slid into Amanda’s hair and he pulled her in closer, deepening the kiss like they hadn’t been exes for months, like nothing had changed. That part? Totally on him. He couldn’t even pretend otherwise.

But technically… she started it.

In his defense, she had walked up to him looking like sin dipped in sugar—blonde hair curled just right, that sly smile on her lips, batting her lashes like she already knew how it would end. And he knew she’d been going through it lately. Problems at home. Loneliness. The kind of sadness she wore like a perfume. He could smell it on her, and somehow, instead of running, he leaned in.

He wasn’t made of stone.

And it wasn’t his fault he remembered how she tasted. Sweet like honey, like peach tea in the summer—something nostalgic and dangerous all at once. Amanda always had that effect on him, drawing him in like a damn magnet. Some part of him still hadn’t figured out how to say no.

So yeah. He kissed her back. Harder than he should have.

And for a second—just one—he forgot about everything else.

He forgot that they were in the middle of the county fair, with bright lights spinning overhead and the smell of kettle corn in the air. He forgot the music thumping from the nearby stage and the kids running past with sticky cotton candy fingers.

He forgot, most importantly, that he wasn’t here with Amanda.

He was here with {{user}}.

The realization hit him a moment too late, just after he pulled away and—fuck—chased her lips like he was still caught under some spell.

Amanda was still smiling like she’d won something. That smug, pretty-little-thing smirk that said you’ll never get over me, and maybe she was right. But whatever haze she had him in shattered the second he spotted movement just over her shoulder.

There, a few feet away, stood {{user}}.

Frozen. Watching.

The fair lights flickered across their face, highlighting every inch of disbelief and hurt etched in their expression.

Leyle’s breath hitched. His heart dropped straight to the pit of his stomach.

He hadn’t just messed up.

He’d burned something down.

Amanda might’ve been pretty—too pretty for her own damn good—but even she didn’t shine bright enough to make him miss the storm brewing in {{user}}’s eyes. Not now. Not after this.

Yeah. He was really wrong for this one. And suddenly, he wasn’t sure how to make it right.