French kiss

Ethan Rossi stepped into the velvet-draped booth as the music outside pulsed like a heartbeat. Purple lights shimmered through the fabric, silhouettes dancing, laughter spilling into the night. He wasn’t nervous, He didn’t get nervous in moments like this. He was” Ethan” a professional heartbreaker, billionaire playboy, prince of one-night scandals. A kissing booth game at a mask festival? Child’s play. Then she stepped in. He didn’t see her face only a slim figure wearing a simple white mask and a soft rose-colored dress that brushed her knees. She hesitated for just a heartbeat, hands clasped in front of her. Not shaking… just slightly unsure, like she wasn’t used to being this close to anyone. He smirked cute. The volunteer outside shouted, “Masks stay on! Hands behind your back! Ten-second kiss!” The girl inhaled softly. Ethan leaned forward. Their lips touched. And his entire world… tilted. Warm, Innocent, and soft. Not practiced.Not calculated. A real first kiss… he felt it instantly. The careful curiosity, the tender way she met him halfway, like she was discovering something fragile, terrifying, and beautiful. Her breath hitched not in fear, but in surprise. He felt it, the moment she pressed into him. The moment something in her decided, I trust this. In ten seconds, Ethan Rossi who had never believed in a soulmate, in fate, in anything deeper than physical pleasure felt something ignite inside him. Something he thought had died with his mother’s passing. The volunteer counted down, “Three, two….time out!. The kiss broke. Ethan inhaled sharply. She stepped back, touching her lips like they still held the imprint of his. He whispered, voice low and stunned. “…Wait.” But she turned, slipping out of the booth just as the curtain swung closed on his outstretched hand. Ethan stumbled out the other end of the booth, blinking at the bright lights. His friends bombarded him immediately. “DUDE!” Liam yelled. “What the actual hell happened in there? You vanished!” “You look like you saw God,” Marco added, sipping wine. “Was it that bad?” Ethan ignored them, scanning the crowd. “Where is she?” “Who?” Liam laughed. “It’s a carnival, man! There are like a thousand women here.” “No,” Ethan said, voice sharp. “Her. The girl in the booth with me.” Marco raised a brow. “Since when do you care about the identity of a girl you kissed for ten seconds?” “Since she didn’t kiss me,” Ethan said slowly. “She… connected.” Both friends froze. Liam blinked. “Connected as in emotionally?” Marco pretended to wipe tears. “Our boy Ethan caught feelings. Someone call the Vatican.” Ethan didn’t respond. His eyes scanned every mask, every dress, every silhouette. “She was wearing rose pink,” he muttered. “White mask. Shoulder-length hair. Petite.” Liam snorted. “Bro. Ten percent of the women here look like that.” “Shut up,” Ethan snapped. “Help me look.” Marco sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if she turns out to be an eighty-year-old tourist with back pain, I’m filming your reaction.” They split up. Ethan pushed through the glowing crowd..past dancers, wine stands, fire breathers his pulse humming. He tried asking people. “Excuse me, did you see a girl in a rose dress? White mask?” They all giggled. Some touched his arm, a few tried guessing, a girl leaned in to kiss him again, whispering, “Maybe it was me.” He stepped back immediately. “It wasn’t.” Soon other girls joined. “I swear I was in the booth with you.” “No, it was me!” “Drink me in, Ethan—do I taste familiar?” Marco groaned from behind. “This is a disaster.” Liam returned, slightly out of breath. “Nothing. You sure you didn’t hallucinate her?” Ethan clenched his jaw. “I didn’t hallucinate a kiss that felt like…” He stopped. Like what? Like hope? Like the first drop of rain on a long-dead desert? he said touching his lips. Marco crossed his arms. “Bro. You kissed half of Europe in the last decade. Why is this one different?” Ethan didn’t know the answer to that, he just knew she was gone. And it hurt more than it should. They searched for another twenty minutes around the booths, near the Ferris wheel, the fountain, the food stands but there was no sign of her. Finally, Liam said gently, “Let’s go, man. You tried.” Ethan didn’t move. His chest tightened in a way he didn’t like acknowledging. “It wasn’t supposed to mean anything,” he murmured. “Why the hell does it feel like I lost something?” Liam clapped his shoulder. “Because for once, you wanted something real.” Ethan didn’t deny it. But hours later, even after the festival grew louder, even after his friends dragged him to a rooftop bar, even after he pretended to have fun the kiss haunted him and he hated that. Across Paris, a city bus rolled through the midnight streets, lights flickering across tired passengers. A girl sat in the back row, her mask still on her lap. Her eyes were swollen, her breath shaky. Her name was Talia Beaumont, and her heart felt like someone had wrung it out. She wasn't meant to go to the carnival. Her boyfriend, ex now, had begged her to meet him there. Insisting he wanted to “talk”, prove his undying love for her by fixing things between them that hindered their love story. She believed him. Idiot. She had arrived at the carnival smiling, hopeful. Only to see him kissing another woman so deeply, so hungrily, so passionately…. She wondered if he ever kissed her like that or if she was just the biggest fool to believe he actually loved her. She didn’t confront him not even a scream. She just turned and walked away…her chest caving in, her breath thin, tears burning before she even reached the bus stop. Now she pressed her forehead against the window, watching Paris blur into watercolor lights. She wiped her eyes. “Stupid, stupid heart” She whispered into the empty air, “Why wasn’t I enough?” The bus hummed. She touched her lips again, because amidst the heartbreak… another memory fluttered inside her. A kiss. Soft, warm, and Electric with a stranger in a carnival booth. Her best kiss was not planned, not romantic, not intentional. She had joined the booth to distract herself for a moment. She didn’t even expect to feel… anything. But his lips gentle yet sure had momentarily quieted her pain. She didn’t know who he was nor did she know he was a billionaire nor know he was searching for her with frantic eyes. She only knew that tonight had broken her in tiny pieces and that strange, stolen kiss was the only thing that made her feel like she wasn’t disappearing. She closed her eyes. “I’ll forget it in a couple of days,” she whispered sadly. “Just like everything else.” Because she always forgot. Memories slipped through her like sand unless she experienced them again and again. It was her curse. A secret she didn’t tell anyone. And she was already losing tonight. Already forgetting his warmth. Already drowning again. She curled up against the seat, silent tears falling. While across Paris, Ethan stood on a balcony, touching his lips like he’d been branded. One kiss. Two broken hearts. And a story that had only just begun.