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One hand comes up to my jaw, warm and steady, fingers brushing my hairline like he’s aware of every camera and still refuses to treat me like an object they get to consume. The other settles at my waist, light pressure, anchoring instead of claiming.

He angles his body without thinking, turning us so his back takes the brunt of the phones. A shield made of muscle and calm intention.

The crowd leans in.

“Just breathe,” he murmurs, so low it barely reaches me.

I try.

Then he dips his head and kisses me.

It’s not meant to be dramatic. No sweeping motion. No cinematic linger. Just enough to satisfy the lenses pointed at us.

But the second our lips meet—

Everything detonates.

My breath catches hard, like my lungs forgot their job. Electricity shoots straight down my spine, sharp and undeniable, my pulse slamming so fast it feels like it might bruise from the inside.

This is not a press kiss.

This is not optics.

This is not the harmless little performance ERS outlined in bullet points and disclaimers.

This is something else.

Something dangerous.

Something that feels like it bypassed every rule I’ve ever built to keep myself intact.

My hands move without permission, fingers curling into the lapels of his coat like my body already knows where it wants to hold on. I tilt toward him, instinctive, automatic, like gravity just rewrote itself.

For half a heartbeat, the world disappears.

No cameras. No donors. No headlines waiting to be written.

Just warmth. Steadiness. The quiet shock of realizing how right this feels in a way it absolutely shouldn’t.

Then he pulls back.

Clean. Controlled. Professional.

The moment snaps back into place.

The phones lower. The murmurs swell. Museum staff exhales.

The cameras are satisfied.

I am not.

My lips tingle. My heart keeps racing, traitorous and loud. I can feel where his hand was even after it’s gone, like my skin hasn’t caught up yet.

Cam stays close, just enough that I don’t wobble, his expression calm and unreadable to anyone watching.

But when his eyes meet mine—

There’s something steady and warm there. Exciting and terrifying at the same time.