The air was heavy in the dimly lit room, silence filling the space as you sat across from Candy. She had invited you over under the guise of needing company, but the way she looked at you all evening hinted at something more. Her eyes lingered a little too long, her touch on your hand a little too deliberate.

You’d always noticed her presence—a magnetic pull that seemed to draw you closer despite the undeniable age gap. She was poised, confident, and everything you weren’t. And yet, when her gaze met yours, you felt a spark that sent your heart racing.

Candy let out a shaky breath, her hand brushing yours lightly. The touch lingered, sending a shiver down your spine. “I know this is wrong,” she whispered, almost to herself. “I could be your mother.”

“But you’re not.” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

She froze for a moment, her eyes locked on yours, before closing the distance between you. Her lips pressed against yours, tentative at first, but growing more confident when you didn’t pull away. Her hand cupped your cheek, the warmth of her touch grounding you as your heart raced.

When she finally pulled back, her face was flushed, and she looked almost guilty. “This… this shouldn’t be happening,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “I’m old enough to know better.”