Always

Chapter Six

Mia

The kiss isn’t fireworks and chaos like I imagined first kisses were supposed to be.

It’s slow.

Warm.

Careful.

Like we both understand that this isn’t just a moment—it’s a decision.

For a second, the world disappears. The music fades, the shouting on the beach dulls into background noise, and it’s just Liam’s hands steady at my waist and his lips moving gently against mine like he’s afraid I might break.

When we finally pull apart, neither of us steps away.

His forehead rests lightly against mine. Our breaths mix in the cool night air.

“Say something,” he murmurs.

I let out a shaky laugh. “You kissed me.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I did.”

We stare at each other like we’re trying to memorize this version of us. The one that doesn’t exist in childhood memories. The one that doesn’t fit neatly into the box labeled best friends.

My heart is racing so fast it feels impossible to think straight.

“Does this ruin everything?” I ask before I can stop myself.

His expression shifts instantly. Serious. Certain.

“No.”

He says it like a promise.

Behind us, someone whistles loudly. “About time!” a voice calls from somewhere near the bonfire. Heat rushes to my cheeks as I realize we weren’t nearly as alone as it felt.

Liam stiffens slightly, and I see it—the old instinct. The reputation. The way people expect him to turn this into something casual, something temporary.

He doesn’t.

Instead, his hand slides down to intertwine with mine. Not secretive. Not hesitant.

Open.

That simple gesture does something bigger than the kiss.

It tells everyone watching that this isn’t just another party moment.

It tells me.

We walk back toward the bonfire together, fingers laced. Conversations hush when we pass. I catch confused looks from girls who used to orbit him like they were waiting their turn. Guys who look at me differently now—not just curious, but cautious.

Liam doesn’t acknowledge any of them.

“You okay?” he asks softly as we sit back down.

I nod, though everything inside me feels brand new. “Are you?”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

That makes my stomach flip.

“How long is ‘a while’?”

He glances at me, a crooked smile forming. “Long enough that pretending got exhausting.”

The word pretending lingers between us.

Because that’s what this summer has been, hasn’t it? Pretending I didn’t notice him looking at me differently. Pretending my heart didn’t skip when he stood too close.

No more pretending.

The waves crash steadily against the shore, the last fireworks fading into smoke above us.

Tomorrow, school starts again.

Everything will be different.

But tonight, as Liam’s thumb traces small circles against my hand, I realize something.

Different doesn’t always mean bad.

Sometimes, it just means finally.