She gestures vaguely at my face. “You have that whole ‘sulking in a fragrance ad’ thing going on. It’s the cheekbones. And the brooding.”
“Brooding?” I repeat, mock-offended.
“Positively moody,” she says, casually licking her finger. “You look like you journal in eyeliner.”
I lean in, lowering my voice just enough to make her shoulders tense.
“Worse,” I say. “I’m Liam’s best friend.”
“Well, I guess everyone deserves a friend. Even you.”
Her expression doesn’t budge. So I’m guessing Liam hasn’t mentioned me. That little bastard.
She keeps talking—something about Liam’s spice cabinet being a cry for help—but I’m not really listening anymore.
Because there’s a smudge of chocolate glaze on her bottom lip.
And suddenly, all the oxygen in the room is aimed straight at my chest.
I shouldn’t be noticing this. Idefinitelyshouldn’t be staring.
But I am.
And now she’s stopped talking.
And she’s looking at me—like maybe she’s starting to notice, too.
"You’ve got something on your lip," I say, my voice lower than I intend.
Her hand lifts automatically, fingers swiping the corner of her mouth.
"Not there," I murmur, still watching her.
She freezes.
Our eyes meet, and the room goes silent—no more buzzing fridge, no more traffic outside, no more anything. Just her, and me, and the growing realization that neither of us is moving.
She should get up.
I should look away.
But I don’t.
And she doesn’t.
Instead, I shift forward—slowly, like I’m testing gravity—and lean in. Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull back. Not even an inch.
Her lips are soft. Warmer than I expected. Still, I only mean it to be a moment—a brush. A question, not a demand.
But Olive doesn’t pull away.
She stills, her fingers twitching where they grip the edge of the pillow in her lap, and then—slowly—her lips move against mine.
It’s all the permission I need.
My hand finds her cheek, fingers threading gently into the wisps of hair escaping her bun. Her skin is warm, flushed. When I tilt my head and deepen the kiss, she lets out the softest sound—barely audible, but enough to make my pulse spike.
I should stop.
