She didn’t belong here. Not with the smoke and the noise, the bodies grinding in the living room and the smell of spilled liquor baked into the floorboards.

But she was here anyway.

And she was smiling.

Not the tight-lipped smile she gave when someone broke dress code. Not the one she gave while organizing the blood drive or taking notes during meetings.

This one was loose. Sloppy.

Real.

Damon leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching her laugh with Michael in the kitchen—clearly tipsy, maybe worse. Her prim blouse was half untucked, cheeks flushed, heels kicked off. Hair a mess.

She was chaos.

And he was completely screwed.

“Don’t stare too hard,” Will said beside him. “She might combust.”

Kai chuckled from behind his beer. “He wants her to.”

“Shut up,” Damon muttered.

He meant to keep watching from a distance. That was safe. But then she turned, glassy-eyed, and spotted him across the room.

“Oh my god,” she called, weaving toward him through the crowd. “Damon Torrance.”

He blinked. “Present?”

“You—” she jabbed a finger at his chest, stopping way too close, “—are so annoying. You walk around like you own the place. Like everyone should just move when you show up.”

He arched a brow. “Because they should.”

She huffed a laugh and poked him again. “You’re infuriating. And mean. And hot, which is not helpful.”

He blinked. “Did you just call me hot?”

“Shut up,” she muttered, swaying slightly. “You know you are.”

He smirked. “So what are you doing here, President?”

She lifted her chin. “Breaking a few rules.”

Then—before he could reply—she grabbed his face in both hands, pulled him down, and kissed him.

Sloppy. Off-balance. Smelling like citrus vodka and vanilla lotion.

Damon froze.

Then his hands gripped her waist on instinct, holding her steady. Not kissing back. Not really. Because if he did, he wouldn't stop. He knew that. Everyone knew that.

She pulled back, swaying again. “I like you, Damon,” she whispered, smiling through the words like it was a secret she’d kept too long. “And it’s so annoying.”

Damon stared at her.

Completely undone. No pretense. No polish.

His obsession.

He didn’t say a word.

Because if he opened his mouth, he’d ruin it. And she wasn’t his to ruin.

Yet.