Evening settles over a friend’s house party, the place buzzing with laughter and music that thrums through the walls. You’re sunk into the couch, half-empty drink in hand, chatting lazily with a few friends. One by one, they peel away toward the dance floor, until it’s just you and the low hum of conversation around you.

Then, without warning, a hand slips in and plucks the glass from your fingers. “That’s enough,” a familiar voice says smoothly. “No more for you.”

You glance up to see David, your boyfriend. He’s looking down at you, his expression somewhere between teasing and protective.

You roll your eyes, but it only earns a soft chuckle from him. “Come on. Let’s get some fresh air,” he says, already holding out his hand.

You take it.

Minutes later, you’re on a quiet bench just outside, the muffled party a distant echo. An ice cream cone rests in your hand. Your favorite flavor, naturally. Mint chocolate. David leans back, watching you take a bite, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Good?” he asks.

You nod and hold it out in offering. But instead of leaning forward for a taste, he tilts his head, closing the space between you. His lips find yours, slow, lingering, and just faintly sweet with melted mint chocolate and the night air.

When he pulls back, there’s a playful curve to his smile.

“Sweet,” he murmurs.