The summer air was thick, golden, and endless, the kind of night where everything felt suspended. You were leaning against the hood of Conrad’s car, headlights dimmed, the ocean just a dark hum behind you. He stood close—too close—with that restless tilt to his jaw, the one that always made it look like he was holding back words he’d never say.

“Why do you look at me like that?” you asked, breath catching.

He let out a low laugh, but it was sad at the edges. “Like what?”

“Like you already know how this ends.”

Conrad didn’t answer right away. His eyes, stormy and unreadable, flickered to your mouth before settling back on you. The song humming from his cracked speakers bled into the background—something soft, aching, like a memory you weren’t living yet.

Then he leaned in, brushing his fingers against your cheek as if he was memorizing you. “Because I do,” he whispered. His lips found yours, slow at first, then desperate, like he wanted to hold on to something he already feared losing.

For a second, the world burned brighter: his hands at your waist, the salt of his skin, the heat of the kiss that felt like it might ruin you in the best way. It was the kind of kiss that you knew would haunt you, no matter how many summers passed.

When he pulled back, his voice was ragged. “Promise me, even if we don’t last… you’ll remember me like this. Not the mess. Not the end. Just… this.”

The night swallowed the words, but they stayed anyway—just like him.