Somehow I’ve traveled back to my third-grade playground days. Unless there's another explanation for why {{user}} is goading me into kissing them.

"I don't have to prove a damn thing," I inform them. "I happen to be a fantastic kisser. Sadly, you will never get to find out."

"Never say never," they answer in a singsong voice.

"Thanks for that, Justin Bieber. But yeah, not going to happen, dude."

They sigh. "I get it. You're intimidated by my potent energy. Chin up, it happens all the time."

Oh brother. I can still remember the days—all of a week ago when {{user}} Graham wasn't a fixture in my life. When I didn't have to listen to their cocky remarks or see their rogue grins or get drawn into a flirt battle I have no interest in.

Except {{user}} happens to be very, very good at one particular thing: throwing down the gauntlet.

"Fear is a fact of life," they say solemnly. "Don't let it get you down, Wellsy. Everyone experiences it." They lean back on their elbows like a bigshot. "Tell you what, I'll give you a free pass. If you're too scared to kiss me, I won't make you."

"Scared?" I rumble. "I'm not scared, dumbass. I just don't want to."

Another sigh rolls out of their chest. "Then I guess we're back to self-confidence issues. Don't worry, there are a lot of bad kissers in this world, sweetheart. I'm sure with practice and perseverance, you'll one day be able to—"

"Fine," I interrupt. "Let's do it."

Their mouth slams shut, eyes widening in surprise. Ha. So they didn't expect me to call their bluff.

Our gazes lock in a stare-down for the ages. they’re waiting for me to back down, but I'm confident I can wait them out. Maybe it's childish of me, but {{user}} has already gotten their way about this tutoring thing. This time I want to win.

But I've underestimated {{user}} yet again.