The filter had been blowing up on TikTok, and you and Malachi finally gave in to try it out. Sitting side by side, you hit record, and the first prompt appeared: Cheek kiss.

You leaned in, brushing your lips softly against the warm curve of his cheek. He tilted his head slightly toward you, as if savoring it longer than necessary, before leaning back with a grin. “Cute. Number five,” he decided, his tone deliberately smug. “Good start… but nothing crazy.”

The next prompt: Neck kiss. His smirk deepened, and instead of moving, he shifted just enough to bare the side of his neck for you. Your stomach flipped. You leaned in slowly, lips hovering for a moment before finally pressing them to his skin—warm, delicate, lingering longer than a quick peck. His breath hitched, his jaw flexing. “Number two,” he muttered, lower than before. “That one’s trouble.”

Forehead kiss. You surprised him, cupping his jaw as you leaned close. The kiss lingered at the center of his forehead, soft and steady. His eyes fluttered shut briefly, and when you pulled back, he only whispered, “Number three… too good.”

Hand kiss. He extended his hand toward you almost challengingly. You took it, pressing your lips against his knuckles, then turning his palm over to kiss the inside. His eyes darkened. “That’s unfair,” he murmured.

By the last prompt, Eskimo kiss, your noses brushed, breaths mingling, the air impossibly heavy. Malachi plucked the phone from your hand, ending the recording.

“I think the filter forgot the best one,” he said softly.

Your voice barely came out. “And what’s that?”

He leaned in—slow, certain—before kissing you for real, every “ranking” meaningless now.