We Swore We’d Never Kiss There was something about that ruin that made everything feel like a dare. The walls were cracked, half-eaten by moss and time. Nature had reclaimed the place, and that made it perfect—untouched, quiet, forgotten. Just like them. It was where they went to be wild without consequence, without rules. No eyes, no judgement. Just adrenaline and impulse. Philza leaned back against the stone, legs stretched out, fingers idly flicking a splintered bottle cap into the dirt. The fire they’d built had burned low, casting shadows that danced up broken columns and over twisted roots. Somewhere nearby, a fox screamed. He didn’t flinch. She was across from him—lounging, stretched out like she owned the place. Her presence was loud, even when she was still. Her black and expensive sneakers clean. Her nails were freshly but messy like done. And she looked like trouble carved into a girl’s shape. He didn’t look at her directly. He rarely did, not for long. It made things worse. There was a line between them. Always had been. Something sharp and invisible, drawn in smoke and blood and impulse. They never crossed it—not really. They joked, they teased, they got close enough to fall off the edge, and then they pulled back. It was part of the game. But tonight felt different. The air was heavy. The fire was low. And she kept watching him like she knew something he didn’t. He stood, shaking off the cold from the stone. Paced a little. The ground crunched under his boots, damp and soft from yesterday’s storm. He didn’t know what he was trying to walk off—heat or nerves or both. Maybe it didn’t matter. He stopped just a few steps in front of her. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel. Philza stared at the forest behind her, then back at her face, then away again. She was waiting for him to say something. He could feel it. She always wanted him to break first.

He didn’t smile.

Didn’t joke.

Didn’t dodge.

When he finally spoke, his voice came out low and certain—like a promise he wasn’t supposed to make.

“If I ever kiss you, Naomi, it’s not gonna be soft.”