You’re perched on the counter, barefoot, laughing as you dip a plump strawberry into a bowl whipped cream.

Across from you, Hanta is leaning against the island with that signature crooked grin, arms crossed, watching you with amused eyes like you’re the funniest, most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“You’re seriously gonna eat that whole bowl by yourself, sunshine?” he teases, eyebrows raised.

You pop the strawberry in your mouth dramatically. “Maybe. Unless you want some.”

Hanta pushes off the counter, pretending to think it over. “Hmm. You know I’m more of an orange guy, right?”

You smirk, holding up another strawberry like a peace offering. “C’mon, live a little. Just try one.”

“Only if you feed it to me,” he says without missing a beat, stepping into your space, hands settling lightly on your knees.

You roll your eyes but your cheeks warm up anyway. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He opens his mouth expectantly, grinning like a total dork. You place the strawberry in his mouth, and he bites down gently, never breaking eye contact.

His chewing slows. Then he nods, exaggerated and thoughtful. “Okay. That’s actually kinda fire.”

“Told you,” you say smugly, licking a little whipped cream off your finger. “You’re welcome.”

But he’s still looking at you—not the strawberry anymore. His thumb reaches up, brushing just beneath your bottom lip where a tiny streak of cream escaped.

“Missed a spot,” he says, voice suddenly softer.

Your breath catches.

Then he leans in, gentle but certain, and kisses you—lightly, like a taste test, like he’s savoring the moment just as much as the strawberry. His lips are warm and sweet and just a little hesitant, like he's still figuring this whole “kissing your crush” thing out.

When he pulls back, his cheeks are a little pink, but he’s smiling like he just won the lottery.