His voice dropped, rougher than before. “You want to?”
I couldn’t lie. “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But I don’t want them laughing at you. Or me.” Not that they already didn’t.
He breathed out in a rush. “Yeah. Okay. Just a quick one.”
I leaned in before I could talk myself out of it.
He met me halfway. “Your breath smells like pepperoni,” he whispered, making me snort despite my nerves.
The kiss was awkward, nervous, barely there. More a brush of lips than anything. But it lit something in me, something sharp and sweet and terrifying.
I jerked back too fast, heart pounding so hard it hurt. We didn’t speak. Didn’t move. And then he did something I never saw coming, something that stole the air right out of my lungs.
He leaned in again.
And this time, it was a kiss. Arealone. It burned every thought out of my head and replaced them with fire.
Dare’s hand brushed the side of my face, leaving a trail of heat on my skin. His lips lingered longer, and my mouth watered. His breath hitched like he felt it too. And just for a second, the world outside the closet stopped existing.
Just for a moment, it was perfect.
Then he pulled back like he’d been burned. Dare flailed, and his hand landed right in my lap. It was the first time my body had ever responded that way, hardening, throbbing, without me touching it. And Dare felteverything.
We sat in the dark, not looking at each other. Not even breathing.
A voice called out from the hallway, “Time’s up!”
The closet door creaked open, spilling light across the floor. Dare stood before I did, pushing out without a glance over his shoulder. No hand offered this time.
And I already knew something had changed.
We’d crossed a line we couldn’t uncross. Thirteen was too young to understand what it meant, but old enough to know I’d never forget it.
He kissed me like it mattered and walked away like it hadn’t.
CHAPTER 6
TRU
The most painful goodbyes are the ones that were never explained.
Dare wentstraight home after the party.
No sleepover, no whispered jokes across the dark, no pretending we weren’t dead tired while we made up new plays with his soccer ball balanced on our knees. It felt wrong. Empty.
I woke up with his name in my mouth. Not out loud, just there, heavy behind my teeth, like I’d been dreaming of him. Some part of me was still in that closet, still trapped in the dark with his breath on my cheek, the echo of his lips pressed to mine.
I stayed flat on my back, the blanket tangled around my legs, heart beating too hard in my chest.
I remembered how soft it was. The second kiss, I mean. The first one was nothing, just nerves and pressure and the sound of people waiting outside. But the second kiss was… different.
Slower. Warmer. Intentional.
Real.
It lingered for hours, a mark I couldn’t wash off. I knew I’d never forget.
I sat up and grabbed my phone, stomach already sinking before the screen even lit. No messages or notifications. Nothing but silence. Maybe he was sleeping in, I told myself, but the excuse felt thin. My thumb hovered over his name in my contacts, trembling as if knowing better. What was I supposed to say?Did that mean anything to you?sounded desperate.Heyfelt safer.
