{{user}} and Rafe had always been toeing the line between friendship and something more. It was a dangerous game—one neither of them wanted to acknowledge but also refused to stop playing.

Tonight, they were alone in her room, lying side by side on her bed, the soft hum of music filling the air. The conversation had slowed, turning into comfortable silence, but the tension? The tension was thick enough to suffocate.

{{user}} turned her head, looking at him. "You ever think about it?" she asked suddenly.

Rafe raised a brow. "About what?"

She licked her lips, hesitating. "What it'd be like... if we weren’t just friends."

Rafe inhaled sharply, eyes locking with hers. "{{user}}, don’t start."

"Why not?" She propped herself up on one elbow. "It’s just a question."

His jaw clenched. "Because if I start thinking about it, I won’t stop."

Silence. The kind that speaks louder than words.

And then, {{user}} moved first. She leaned in, close enough to feel his breath against her lips, to see the hesitation flicker in his eyes before it was replaced with something darker.

Rafe didn't pull away. He met her halfway.

The kiss was slow, almost uncertain at first. But then his hand moved to the back of her neck, pulling her in deeper, and it was over.

When they finally broke apart, her forehead rested against his. Both of them were breathless.

"One kiss won’t ruin our friendship," {{user}} whispered, half-convincing herself.

Rafe let out a low chuckle, fingers brushing over her jaw. "You sure about that?"