The party was dying down. Wendy and Nate were arguing about whose turn it was to grab more soda, Tambry was scrolling through her phone on the couch, and the bonfire in the forest was burning low. The air smelled like cheap beer, smoke, and pine.

You slipped away into the forest the night cool against your skin. You weren’t surprised when you heard footsteps crunching on gravel behind you.

“Running off already?” Robbie’s voice came low, lazy, like he didn’t care — but he did. You could always tell when he did. His hoodie was half-zipped, dark eyes rimmed with tired eyeliner, hair falling into his face. He looked exactly like every song he ever wrote about hating everything.

You shrugged. “Got bored.”

He smirked, half a scoff, half a smile. “Yeah. Same.”

Silence settled between you. The kind that said too much — the kind that came after too many nights like this one. Nights when one of you would say we shouldn’t do this again, and then do it anyway.

Robbie leaned against the tree, close enough that you could smell smoke and mint gum on him. The moonlight flickered over his face, making his features look softer than he’d ever admit they could be.

“You know,” he muttered, voice rough, “people are starting to talk.”

You gave a short laugh. “Let them.”

He looked at you for a long second — the kind that felt heavier than it should’ve. Then he tilted his head, lips tugging into that crooked grin that always got him out of trouble. “You’re bad news.”

“You’re worse,” you said, and that was all it took.

He kissed you — quick, messy, like he didn’t know if he wanted to do it or stop himself. You caught his hoodie in your hands and pulled him closer. Every bit of tension between you came pouring out, and for a moment, it didn’t matter that tomorrow you’d both act like it meant nothing.

When you finally pulled away, you both laughed quietly, a little breathless. Somewhere in the distance, Wendy yelled something about s’mores.

Robbie shoved his hands into his pockets, pretending nothing had happened. “Guess I’ll see you around,” he said, already turning back toward the others.

You watched him go, heart still racing, the taste of smoke and rebellion on your tongue.

Same story, same ending — and somehow, you already knew it wouldn’t be the last time.