It’s been a long day of errands and friendly bickering, the kind that comes naturally after years of being best friends. The sun is setting, casting golden streaks across your skin, and you’re both sitting on the hood of his car parked in a quiet spot overlooking the city. He leans back on his hands, watching you struggle to explain something—maybe it’s how you totally know what you’re doing when it comes to flirting, or at least think you do.

Isaac can’t help but smirk. You’re stumbling over your words, and the way your face heats up only makes him want to tease you more.

“You’ve got no game,” he finally says, voice low and playful.

You narrow your eyes at him. “And you’re the expert?”

“Better than you,” he quips, turning to face you fully now. The smugness on his face should be illegal.

You huff, crossing your arms. “Prove it, then. Show me how it’s done.”

His brows shoot up, and for a second, he’s surprised you’ve challenged him. But then that mischievous glint returns to his dark eyes. Slowly, he leans in, his face a little too close to yours. You feel his breath against your skin, and your heart stumbles, betraying your calm exterior.

“You sure about that?” he murmurs, voice dipping an octave.

You swallow hard but nod.

Isaac raises a brow, holding your gaze for a beat longer. Then, in one smooth motion, his hand comes up, palm warm as it presses gently over your mouth. Before you can react, he tilts his head slightly and leans in, lips brushing against the back of his own hand.

The proximity is overwhelming. His eyes flicker to yours, and they’re darker now, heat lingering in the air between you. Your pulse races, and he doesn’t pull away just yet, letting the tension sit heavy and unspoken.

He finally lowers his hand, his lips twitching into a smug grin when he sees your stunned expression.

“Like that,” he says, his voice teasing but carrying something deeper beneath it.