It started with a party you probably shouldn’t have gone to. Music pounding, the smell of alcohol and smoke thick in the air, people laughing too loud and dancing too close. You were there because your friends dragged you, but once you saw Effy Stonem, all thoughts of leaving disappeared.

She was leaning against the wall, dark eyes scanning the room like she owned it—like she owned everything. She didn’t smile, but when she looked at you, it felt like the world contracted around that one gaze.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said softly when you approached.

“Maybe I want to be,” you replied, heart thudding in your chest.

Her lips quirked in a half-smile. “Bold. Dangerous.”

The night passed in a blur. People shouted, glasses broke, music shook the walls—but when you and Effy slipped outside to the quiet alley, it felt like a different world.

You leaned against the cold brick, trying to catch your breath. Effy stood close, cigarette dangling from her fingers, eyes dark and unreadable.

“You shouldn’t feel this way,” she murmured.

“Why not?” you asked, heart racing.

“Because it’s wrong,” she said, voice low, almost a whisper. “You shouldn’t… want me.”

You blinked, unable to hide the truth. “I do.”

For a moment, silence. Then she stepped closer, dangerously close. Your breath hitched.

“You know we can’t,” she whispered.

Her words only made the magnetic pull stronger. You couldn’t stop yourself. She leaned in, and your lips met—softly at first, hesitant, tasting the forbidden.

It was electric, intoxicating. Your world tilted, the alley disappearing around you. Every thought, every rule, every warning vanished in the heat of that kiss.

When you finally pulled away, hearts pounding, Effy’s forehead rested against yours.

“This was a mistake,” she said, though her lips twitched like she didn’t entirely mean it.

“I don’t care,” you admitted, chest heaving. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

She stared at you, eyes unreadable, dangerous, magnetic. “You shouldn’t,” she said again. But there was a softness beneath it, almost a confession of her own.