The party was loud, but you were already bored. You lounged with Astoria and Daphne, swirling your drink lazily.
“Alright,” Daphne grinned, her voice rising over the music. “Let’s go again. Truth or dare.”
You didn’t look up. “Dare.”
Astoria leaned forward. “Kiss Barty.”
That made you laugh. “You want me to kiss that psych0path?”
“He’s hot,” Daphne shrugged. “In a morally questionable kind of way.”
You snorted. “And you think he’s just going to let me kiss him?”
Astoria smirked. “Please. He’d love it. And then he’d disappear like he always does.”
“Yeah, well…” You stood, finishing your drink in one go. “Let’s see what happens when I disappear first.”
Barty sat in an armchair as though it were a throne, one arm slung over the back. A cigarette burned between his fingers, while his tie hung loosely around his neck. He was watching everyone and nothing at the same time.
You approached slowly, making sure he noticed you.
“Come to confess something?” he said lazily.
You tilted your head. “Came to interrupt your sulking.”
He grinned. “Bold.”
You leaned in, close enough to smell the scent of smoke. “Bold would be kissing you in front of everyone.”
He stared at you for a moment, and you could see his ego clicking into place.
“Do it,” he said, as if it were a challenge.
So you did.
The kiss was intense, your hand curled into the fabric of his shirt while his fingers brushed your jaw as though he were memorising it.
And then you pulled away with a smirk.
“You’re not that special,” you said sweetly.
You walked off without looking back.
They were already laughing before you got there.
“Oh my God, you actually did it,” Astoria wheezed. “You kissed Barty!”
“And you survived,” Daphne added.
“He kissed like he knew he was being watched,” you said, flopping down onto the couch. “Classic player.”
“And now,” Astoria grinned, “we wait for him to crack.”
But you didn’t get to wait long.
“Funny,” said his voice behind you. “You think I cracked.”
You turned around, and there he was: Barty was standing behind the sofa with his sleeves rolled up and his jaw tight.
He smirked. “Betting on a kiss and walking away like it meant nothing.”
“I don’t need it to mean anything,” you said.
He chuckled once. “Oh, sweetheart… you really think you’re the one in control here?”
You stood up. “What, your pride hurt?”
“No,” he said, stepping close. “But you’re about to understand something.”
Then he kissed you again, harder this time, as if it were both a punishment and a promise.
When he finally pulled away, he spoke so quietly only you could hear it. “You don’t get to walk away from me.”
Your heart was racing. “Watch me,” you whispered.
He smiled as if the game had just started. “Oh, I am,” he said. “And I’m going to enjoy chasing you down.”