Holy fuck.

You’re kissing Asher.

The boy you’ve supposedly ‘hated’ for three years.

The boy you swore you couldn’t stand.

And yet, why does it feel so... right?

His hands glide across your waist, pulling you closer, his grip firm and certain.

You pull back, your breath shaky as the reality of what just happened crashes over you.

“We should stop,” Asher rasps, his voice low and rough.

“Do you want to?” you ask, barely above a whisper, stepping back slightly.

But his hold tightens, refusing to let you go.

He leans in again, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, and whispers against your skin, “No.”