The pantry is small—too small for two people, especially when one of them is Conrad Fisher.

“This is your fault,” you murmur, pressing your back against the shelves.

Conrad smirks. “You dared me to grab the snacks first.”

Minutes pass, the space growing hotter, the air thicker. His arm brushes yours, and suddenly, he’s caging you in, one hand braced against the shelf behind you.

"Getting nervous, Conklin?" His voice is low, teasing.

You tilt your chin up. "Not even a little."

His gaze drops to your lips. His hand skims your waist, fingers brushing bare skin. Your breath catches.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs.

You don’t. Instead, you curl your fingers into his shirt, pulling him closer—

The door swings open.

Steven stands there, holding a bag of chips, unimpressed. "Really?"

You and Conrad spring apart.

"Next time, if you two wanna hook up, maybe don’t do it where the snacks are, and Conrad if you break my sister’s heart, I’ll kill you." Steven mutters, tossing a bag at you before walking off.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. Conrad just chuckles, his smirk lazy and knowing.

"Guess we’ll have to finish that later."