It wasn’t supposed to happen.

You both reached for the same prop—same moment, same spot—and somehow that turned into you being pushed against a shelf and Jade glaring at you like you insulted her whole existence.

“You keep following me,” she growls. “Is this your thing? Playing dumb and acting like you don’t know I’m two seconds from losing it every time you look at me like that?”

You blink up at her. Pressed between paint cans and her rage.

“I’m not— I didn’t mean to—”

“You never mean to,” she snaps. “You just breathe near me and I lose basic function—what do you want from me!?”

Your heart is racing. You’re sweating. She’s so close.

So you do something stupid.

You reach up…

…and tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

Silence.

She doesn’t breathe.

You did it without thinking—soft, gentle, sweet. Your fingers brushed her skin and her hair and her cheek and that’s it. She’s done.

“…Oh my god,” she whispers. “Oh my god, you’re doing this on purpose.”

“You’re gonna kill me. You’re gonna—what are you??”

You flinch. “I’m sorry—”

But she grabs your face. Both hands. Eyes wide. Jaw clenched.

“No. No, shut up. You don’t get to apologize when you touch me like that. Like I’m soft. Like I’m…” She exhales, broken. “Like I matter to you.”

And that’s when she kisses your forehead.

Not your lips. Not even your cheek. But your forehead.

And she leaves it there after.

“I hate this,” she mutters. “I hate how you’re making me feel things I don’t know how to handle.” “But if you tuck my hair behind my ear again, I’m either gonna kiss you or scream.”

Her thumbs trace your jaw. You’re shaking.

She pulls back. Just a little. Her voice is lower now.

“You gonna do it again?”

Are you?

Are you gonna touch her hair again?

Are you gonna kiss her cheek this time—soft and shaking—just to ruin her again?