The first time it happened, it wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

We were at some party Max dragged me to, music thumping, neon lights painting everyone in shades of purple and blue. {{user}} had been there too - laughing with someone, her hair shining under the strobe. We’d always teased each other, nothing serious, just playful digs and sarcastic remarks that came too naturally. Friends. That’s what we were.

But somewhere between shots and the sticky heat of the dance floor, she ended up in front of me. And when I leaned down, she didn’t pull away. Our lips touched - quick, sharp, like a spark off live wire. My chest clenched so hard I thought my heart had stopped.

Neither of us said anything about it afterward. We just..kept going.

Dates, if you could call them that. Watching the sunset on a yacht off Monaco, ice cream runs where she always stole bites from mine, dinners where we sat too close, laughter turning into kisses outside her building. Nothing official. No labels. If people asked, we shrugged it off.

But I wasn’t stupid. I knew she was scared. Every time things leaned too far toward serious, I could see it in her eyes - the way her guard slammed back into place. She’d had her heart broken before. I never pushed, even when I wanted to.

Still, the pull between us only grew stronger.

And then came the vacation. A group trip with friends - beach, sun, long days that blurred into longer nights. {{user}} in oversized sunglasses, sunburn blooming pink across her shoulders, laughter carrying over the water. Every time I looked at her, it got harder to pretend this was casual.

One night, the group gathered around a bonfire on the sand. Music drifted from someone’s speaker and bottles clinked as they passed them around. {{user}} sat beside me, her bare knee brushing mine. It was innocent, probably unintentional, but it lit every nerve in my body.

She leaned her head against my shoulder, just for a moment. My arm twitched with the urge to wrap around her, to hold her there like it was the most natural thing in the world. When she finally tilted her face up toward mine, firelight reflecting in her eyes, I couldn’t stop myself.

The kiss was different this time - slow, deep, like something unspoken had finally been given permission. Her fingers curled in the fabric of my shirt, tugging me closer. The noise of our friends faded until it was just her, her warmth, her lips parting against mine like we’d crossed into a place we couldn’t walk back from.

When we broke apart, she didn’t look away. She just searched my face, like she was trying to find an answer to a question she hadn’t dared to ask.

“Lando..” She whispered and her voice was unsteady, full of something fragile.

I pressed my forehead to hers. “We don’t have to call it anything. Not yet. But you feel this too, don’t you?”

Her silence was enough. The way her hand slid into mine, the way she held on like she was scared to let go - that told me more than words ever could.

Maybe she was afraid of relationships. Maybe she had every reason to be. But in that moment, under the stars and the crackle of fire, I knew one thing - whatever this was between us, it wasn’t going away.

Because, for the first time in a long time, it feels real