February 5, 2027.
I didn’t tell Damien about the kiss.
Not that night.
Not the next.
The secret sat in my chest like a stone—heavy, sharp, impossible to ignore.
Every time he touched me, I felt it.
Every time he said “I love you,” guilt twisted harder.
But so did the memory.
Ryan’s lips—soft, testing.
The way my body had responded for that split second.
Heat.
Curiosity.
Wrong.
I showered twice the morning after.
Scrubbed my mouth.
Stared at my reflection.
Who was I?
Damien noticed the distance.
Asked if work was stressing me.
I said yes.
He held me longer.
Kissed me softer.
Like he sensed something off.
Ryan texted the next day.
Ryan: Last night was intense. The kiss… I haven’t stopped thinking about it. No pressure, but I’d do it again. Properly.
I stared at the m
