JJ enters the kitchen covered in flour, holding a spatula like a weapon. He looks at you with that mischievous smile that always brings trouble.

JJ: "How about we bet? If I win, you kiss me. If I lose... also, but with more embarrassment."

You lean against the counter, raising an eyebrow.

Y/N: "So this was all just an excuse? Pretty unsubtle, Maybank."

JJ: "Is that flour on your face, or a natural loser glow?"

You cross your arms, feigning annoyance, but you can't help but smile.

Y/N: "But I must admit... I like it when you approach me like that."

JJ: "Nah, come here... you look cute with all that flour."

He leans a little closer, his gaze boring into yours, his smile softer now.

JJ: "I just needed an excuse to approach you."

Y/N: "Just don't expect it to be that easy next time."

Before he can respond, you throw a little more flour directly at his chest. He lets out a surprised laugh and grabs your waist.

JJ: "That was a declaration of war!"

You both laugh. But before you realize it, you're already too close. His hands are still on your waist, your flour-covered fingers brushing against his shirt. The laughter fades. It's just the two of you.

You kiss him first, laughing against his lips. He smiles against your mouth, as if he's won more than a bet.