“Did I mess something up?”
My smile softens him instantly. “No. You’re perfect. I just don’t want you collapsing on top of me.”
He blinks, bewildered. “That’s it? You’re stopping me now?”
I laugh softly, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Yes. Because you’re falling asleep on top of me.”
“Rude,” he mutters, though relief slips into his grin. “That isnotthe feedback I wanted.”
He rolls to the side but drags me with him, his arms tightening as though letting go isn’t an option. I curl against him, skin to skin, both of us still buzzing with leftover heat.
After a beat he mutters, voice low, “Be honest. Was it... okay? I mean—for you?”
I grin, stroking my thumb across his jaw. “Good?”
He groans. “You’re scaring me. You sound like you’re about to grade a science project.”
“Okay,” I whisper, kissing him slow and deep, “it was incredible. Because it was you.”
That knocks the breath out of him. His lips part, but no words come—only that wide, unguarded smile he never shows anyone but me. “I swear I’ll make you happy,” he finally says, voice shaking. “Every day. I’ll spend my whole life trying.”
“You already do,” I murmur, brushing my lips against his. “Even when you’re being impossible. Especially when you’re being impossible.”
He smirks, nipping at my lower lip. “You know you love it.”
I shove his shoulder lightly. “Don’t get cocky, birthday boy.”
He chuckles, then kisses me again, slower this time, letting it linger until I’m dizzy.
For a while, we just breathe together, bodies pressed close, hearts syncing in the quiet. My hand trails across his chest, memorizing the rise and fall, the warmth of him beneath my fingertips.
I kiss his temple and whisper,“Happy birthday, Vincent Cooper.”
His eyes flicker open, glassy but glowing. “Best birthday I’ve ever had.” His lips curl into a wicked grin.
“Although... technically, you didn’t let me finish unwrapping my gift.”
I gasp, cheeks flaming. “Vincent!”
He laughs into my hair, pulling me tighter. “What? I’m just saying... we’ve got time.”
I shake my head, but my heart’s pounding as he kisses me again, softer, deeper, promising more without needing words.
“Can I ask you something?” I murmur as I lay my head against him, my cheek pressed against his chest, as I listen to his heartbeat steady under my ear.
“Shoot.”
“Do you ever think we should’ve posted those videos of us trying Japanese snacks on YouTube? Like... maybe right now we’d be internet-famous.”
Vincent’s laugh vibrates through me, low and warm. “Forget the snacks—if we’d uploaded the Popin’ Cookin’ disasters, we’d have gone viral overnight.”
I grin against him. “You meanyourhamburger that looked like roadkill?”
He pulls back just enough to give me a mock-offended look. “It was modern art. People would’ve appreciated the vision.”
“Mmhm. Sure. Onr/cursedfoodsmaybe.”
That makes him crack up, his shoulders shaking. “Okay, but don’t act like you were a pro. I can still see those sushi rolls collapsing in slow motion. Tragic.”
