The bottle spins lazily in the center of the circle, its green glass catching the low golden light of the chandeliers above. My house smells faintly like wine and perfume, and someone put on a Fleetwood Mac vinyl that's been crackling for the last ten minutes. Niall’s cackling, Zayn's got his arm slung around Perrie’s shoulders, and Louis—well, Louis is already too far gone to be trusted with anything, which is exactly why I should’ve known what was coming.

“Truth or dare, Styles?” he smirks, eyes glinting like he’s been waiting all night to corner me. I lean back on my palms, a lazy grin on my lips. “Dare.” I say, confident. As always. Louis hums, mock-serious. “Kiss the prettiest girl in the room. On the lips.”

There’s a split second—a pause, not even a heartbeat—and I know what everyone expects. Kendall's to my left, long legs folded neatly, a soft laugh still on her lips from something Liam just said. She looks over at me, already anticipating it, lips parted just slightly. But I’m not even looking at her. I’m looking at you. You’re to my right, knees pulled to your chest, sleeves of your hoodie bunched around your wrists. Your hair’s a little messy, cheeks a little flushed, and you’ve got that stupid little smirk that makes my stomach tighten and twist. You've been laughing all night, biting your lip when I look at you too long. And maybe it’s the drinks. Or the years of pretending. Or the way Louis and Niall exchange a look like they know.

But I don’t hesitate, I turn to my right.

Your eyes widen for just a moment, like you don't quite believe I’m doing this. But I am. And then I'm leaning in, slowly, gently. My fingers brush your jaw before I close the space. My lips find yours like it's the easiest thing in the world. Soft. Careful. But not unsure. Everything else falls away—the music, the circle, the weight of Kendall’s presence at my other side. It's just you. The way your breath catches, the way your mouth responds, tentative but real. There's something in it, something honest and warm and frighteningly deep. Like it’s been there between us this whole time, just waiting for one of us to be reckless enough to reach for it.

I pull away slowly, eyes still on yours. No one speaks right away. Then there’s a sharp sound—glass hitting the hardwood. Kendall’s wine glass. She stares at me, blinking like I just slapped her across the face. “Seriously?” she says, cold and quiet. I glance at her, a dull ache already forming behind my ribs. I should feel worse, but I don’t. Not really.

Niall coughs into his drink, grinning behind the rim. Louis mutters, “Finally.” under his breath, loud enough for only me to hear. I turn back to you. You’re still looking at me, lips slightly parted, eyes searching mine like you’re trying to find the catch. The punchline. Like maybe this is still part of the game. It’s not. Your lashes flutter once, barely, and the corner of your mouth lifts like you’re not sure if you’re allowed to smile. I feel it again—that jolt somewhere low in my chest. Like I’ve just stepped off the edge of something tall and there's no way back up.

Someone shifts on the floor. Louis whistles, low and long. Niall’s pretending not to be watching, but he is. Of course he is. Kendall stands without saying another word. Her heels click against the hardwood as she disappears down the hallway, and I don’t look after her. I can’t. The room’s a bit quieter now, but the energy’s changed. Charged. Not tense—just heavy with something real. And in the middle of it, you’re still sitting there beside me. Not moving, not saying anything.

Just there.

And that’s enough to make it the loudest silence I’ve ever heard.