Kiss Me Again
993 Words
Shay’s head was buried in her laptop, the cursor blinking mockingly at the top of her unfinished psychology paper. It was already 11:03 p.m., and the campus café was nearly empty, just the low hum of espresso machines and lo-fi beats playing from someone’s phone behind the counter.
She took a sip of her now-cold chai latte, eyes skimming her screen for the fifth time. She was trying to focus—she really was—but every few minutes, her thoughts slipped back to Cairo. The way he kissed her like he didn’t know how to stop. The way he pulled away like he thought he should.
Her phone buzzed.
Cairo: “You still at that little café that always smells like cinnamon and stress?”
A smirk played on her lips as she typed back.
Shay: “Yes. I’m trying to write this paper but my brain said nah.”
Cairo: “Your brain’s smart.”
Shay: “My GPA would disagree.”
Cairo: “Wanna take a break with me?”
She hesitated.
Shay: “Where?”
Cairo: “Old student lounge in Bellamy Hall. It’s open all night and nobody goes. I’ll bring tea.”
Shay: “…Only if it’s chai.”
Cairo: “You wound me. Obviously.”
Twenty minutes later, Shay pushed open the side entrance of Bellamy Hall. The lounge was tucked behind a glass door with a crooked “Quiet Hours” sign taped to the front. Inside, it was dim—one floor lamp lit the room in a warm glow. A worn couch sat in the middle, a low table covered in mismatched mugs and a few textbooks someone forgot.
And Cairo.
Sitting cross-legged on the couch, hoodie sleeves pushed up, tea in both hands.
“You actually came,” he said, holding out a mug.
“I needed the break,” she replied, easing down beside him.
They sipped in silence for a few beats.
“You look tired,” he said.
“Because I am. This week’s been rough. Papers, exams… everything.”
He chuckled softly. “I know you’re gonna do well with it all, even when stressed because you’re not just pretty, but smart too.”
Shay rolled her eyes but felt her cheeks warm. “Thanks.”
Cairo turned slightly toward her. “How do you do it all?”
“What do you mean?”
“School. Your sanity. Looking like that.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”
He held her gaze, slow and intense. “Like you’re not real.”
Her heart skipped.
Then it stuttered.
And suddenly the room felt smaller.
More still.
“I’m not,” she whispered playfully. “I’m a fever dream.”
Cairo smirked, but something in his expression shifted—softened. “You know what I like about you?”
She raised a brow. “My killer GPA?”
He laughed, but his eyes didn’t waver. “You’re smart. Quiet, but sharp. You notice everything. And you’ve got this way of looking at people like you see them… even when they don’t want to be seen.”
Shay’s breath caught. “That’s either a compliment or a call-out.”
“It’s both.”
They were closer now, knees touching. She hadn’t even noticed when that happened.
He leaned in slightly. “You ever think about what it’d be like if we weren’t so messed up?”
Her voice was barely a whisper. “All the time.”
There was something wild behind his eyes now. Hunger. Heat. Hesitation.
“Can I kiss you again?” he asked, voice low.
“You don’t have to ask.”
⸻
Cairo’s mouth met hers again, but slower this time. Like he was tasting her name in the back of his throat.
His hand found her thigh—just above the knee—and rested there, warm and grounding. He didn’t push. Just touched. Like he was asking for permission without needing words.
Shay didn’t stop him.
If anything, she leaned into it.
The kiss deepened, their bodies shifting closer. His other hand grazed her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek. She let out a soft, unintentional sound—somewhere between a sigh and a plea.
Cairo pulled back slightly, his lips just barely touching hers. “You okay?”
Shay nodded, breathless. “Yeah. Just… don’t stop.”
That flicker of restraint in his eyes cracked.
He kissed down her neck, slow and deliberate, his lips dragging heat across her skin. Shay’s fingers slipped under the hem of his hoodie, her touch exploring the hard lines of his waist. He hissed softly at the contact, then brought his hand higher up her thigh, teasing the edge of her shorts.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t reckless.
But it was desperate.
Controlled only by the ache of wanting more than either of them could admit.
Shay arched into him, her body alight with need. Her mind fuzzed at the edges, drowning in sensation. She wanted him—all of him—but something inside her held her back. Not fear. Not doubt. Just… the need to know it wasn’t just physical.
She cupped his face and pulled him back up to look her in the eyes.
“Cairo,” she whispered. “What are we doing?”
He swallowed hard, his forehead resting against hers. “I don’t know. But I don’t want it to stop.”
She nodded, pressing her lips to his again—but gentler this time. Slower. Softer.
The fire between them didn’t burn out. It just shifted—simmering under skin, coiled and waiting.
Eventually, they lay tangled on the couch, still clothed, still buzzing. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her back, and her head rested on his chest.
Neither of them said the word “relationship.”
Neither of them needed to.
But the line between lust and something deeper?
It was getting thinner by the second.
- Writer
