The kiss is slow.
Not like yesterday—no fire, no breathless tug, no sense of falling off a cliff. Just warmth. Steady. Mutual. Like we feel every millisecond.
Theo kisses me like we're both here, present, not chasing or running. His lips are soft and certain, like he's letting me know—this is real, I want this. No more questions. No need to pretend it was accidental or born out of stress.
When we pull back, neither of us speaks right away. His forehead stays close to mine. His breath brushes my skin. For a few seconds, all I can hear is the low murmur of the cartoon still playing in the background.
Then Theo exhales, long and quiet, like he'd been holding something for a while.
"You okay?" he asks, thumb brushing lightly along my jaw.
I nod. "Yeah. Just ... a little stunned."
He smiles, and it's one of those rare ones—unfiltered, no edge, no irony. Just Theo, with his soft eyes and tousled hair and that quiet confidence like he's not afraid of silence anymore.
