The movie had finished a while ago. Credits long rolled, TV muted, popcorn bowl forgotten somewhere on the bed between them. The room was quiet, cloaked in the soft hum of summer outside the open window. Crickets. A dog barking far off. Her laugh still echoing in his head.

Gibsie sat at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees. She was sprawled on her stomach behind him, chin on her arms, her gaze locked on the back of his head.

He turned slowly, something tight in his jaw.

“You kissed me.”

She blinked. “I—”

“I’m not mad,” he said, voice lower now, almost rough. “But if I had gotten the chance to kiss you first… it would’ve gone a little differently.”

She sat up, eyes wide but amused. “Oh yeah?”

He nodded once.

“You can show me,” she said, her tone playful but guarded, “on one condition.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“You can’t fall in love with me.”

Gibsie huffed a soft laugh. “I won’t, I swear.”

Her eyes flicked down, nervous, but teasing. “You can’t even fall in like with me.”

He turned then, all the way, slow and fluid. And something in his eyes made her breath catch.

“In that case…”

He reached for her, fingertips grazing the back of her thigh, gentle but sure. She stilled. He tugged her just enough, and without thinking, without speaking, she shifted forward—straddling his lap like it was second nature.

Gibsie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Our first kiss should’ve gone something like this…”

And then he kissed her—deep, aching, slow but full of everything he hadn’t said. Not yet. Not tonight.