It was a typical evening—sunset painting the sky in warm colors, summer air thick and still. Rafe was in your room again, like always. By now, he was basically part of the family.

You were on your stomach, scrolling your phone, while he laid on the floor tossing a stress ball in the air. Neither of you said much, but that was normal. Silence with him never felt empty.

Rafe broke the silence. “Sofia tried to get me to sneak out last night. Wore that tiny black top.”

You rolled your eyes. “You talk about girls like a shopping list.”

He laughed. “I like variety.”

You set your phone down. “Don’t you ever get tired of it? Doesn’t it feel… empty?”

He blinked at that. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I just feel like everyone’s already had their ‘firsts,’ and I’m still here, waiting. For something. Anything.”

He shrugged. “You’re not missing much.”

You met his eyes. “Then show me.”

He sat up, confused. “What?”

Your heart raced. “Be my first kiss.”

He studied you. “You’re not just saying that ‘cause you’re bored, right?”

You shook your head. “I want to feel it. Just once.”

Rafe sighed, ran a hand through his hair, then walked over to the bed. “You’re like a little sister to me,” he said softly.

“I know,” you replied. “But I’m not a kid.”

He knelt beside you, his hand near your pillow, leaning in just close enough for you to feel his breath.

“Just one,” he said.

You nodded, and he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or dramatic. It was slow. Careful. Like he didn’t want to break anything. When he pulled away, his eyes lingered on yours a second longer before he smirked and backed up.

“There,” he said, teasing. “Now you’re officially one step closer to catching up with the rest of us.”

But you were still lying there, lips tingling, heartbeat fast, knowing this wasn’t just a check off a list.

Not to you.