The arena buzzes with energy as the game rages on. You sit between your best friend and your boyfriend, Scaramouche. The three of you are enjoying the game—or, at least, trying to. Scaramouche, his arms crossed and expression as cold as usual.

Suddenly, the jumbotron flickers, and the infamous KISS CAM animation sweeps across the massive screen. The crowd cheers, encouraging couples to embrace. The camera zooms and shifts, capturing pairs of fans sharing sweet, awkward, and playful kisses.

Then, it locks on you and your best friend.

The crowd erupts in whistles and applause. You glance at your friend and laugh awkwardly, waving off the camera.

"No, no," you mouth, shaking your head, hoping the operator will move on. But the camera lingers, zooming in with obnoxious persistence.

Scaramouche, sitting on your other side, catches the scene unfolding on the screen. His brows knit together, his scowl deepening. You feel the weight of his gaze boring into you.

Before you can get a word out, Scaramouche grabs your collar, pulling you toward him with surprising force.

The crowd gasps.

And then, without a moment's hesitation—he kisses you.

The kiss is sudden, fierce, and full of heat, like a silent declaration for the entire stadium to witness. Your eyes widen at first, but then you melt into the kiss, feeling the familiar, electric connection between you.

When he pulls away, the crowd roars with approval. The screen flashes a big, "SUCCESS!" in bright, celebratory letters.

You turn back to Scaramouche, breathless and stunned. His signature smirk curls on his lips, a glint of satisfaction in his violet eyes.

And just like that, he leans back in his seat, as if the kiss was nothing more than a statement—and one that left your heart racing.