Kissing Marcelo was a mistake.
I knew it the second it happened.
Not because it felt wrong—
But because it felt too right.
His hand was still on my cheek, warm, steady, like he didn’t want to let go. Like if he did, I might disappear.
I pulled back first.
Of course I did.
My chest was rising too fast, my thoughts crashing into each other.
“What… was that?” I whispered.
Marcelo didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were still on my lips, like he was debating something.
Then he exhaled. “That was me not listening when I should’ve.”
That stung.
I stepped back, folding my arms. “Good to know.”
“That’s not what I meant.” His voice sharpened slightly.
“Then what did you mean?”
Silence.
There it was again—that hesitation that made everything feel unstable.
Like I was standing on so
