Chapter 3: After The Kiss

I pushed the door shut behind me and the latch clicked louder than it should have in the quiet apartment. The lights were off except for the faint glow from the street spilling across the floor. I leaned my back against the wall and let out a long breath that trembled more than I wanted it to.

My chest felt too tight. My face felt too warm. I lifted my fingers to my lips without even thinking, then cursed under my breath when I realized what I was doing. I dropped my hand, tried to laugh at myself, but the heat rising in my cheeks made the sound weak and thin.

It was just a kiss. That was what I told myself. Nothing important. Nothing to think about. Just a moment to sell the act to Jessica. Matteo needed credibility. Matteo needed backup. Matteo needed someone who would not make things complicated.

I pushed away from the wall, headed to the kitchen, and filled a glass at the sink. The water looked steady. My hand did not. I took a few deep gulps, hoping the cold would do something to my pulse. It did not.

I set the glass down and leaned on the counter.

It was nothing.

Only a fake kiss.

Only part of the game.

I kept repeating it like I could convince myself if I said it enough times. Yet the memory rose anyway, soft and warm and real. The faint pressure of his hand on my jaw. The quiet breath he drew right before his lips met mine. The way his mouth felt, gentle but sure, like he had done it without overthinking.

And that low Thank you he whispered after.

That did not sound fake at all.

I shook my head, tried to push it out of my mind, but the thoughts kept circling back. If he was straight, why did it feel like that. Why did he kiss me like that. Why did he look at me like he wanted it to work. I knew the answer. I already knew it. He did not want it. He only needed it.

His friends had been teasing him for weeks.Telling him he looked stiff and confused whenever I stood near him. And Jessica had been getting worse. Matteo told me one night during dinner, while he picked at his pasta with that tired look in his eyes. She gets angry every time she sees me. She sends paragraphs at midnight. She comes to my room without warning. I just want peace for a while.

I understood that. I really did.

He was not ready for another relationship and he did not want to be dragged back into the old one. He needed a buffer. He needed a distraction. I was an easy solution. A safe solution.

I pressed the glass to my forehead, eyes closed.

So it made sense. All of this made sense. On paper it made sense.But my body did not care about paper. My body cared about the feeling that had not left me since I walked out his door.

I went to my room and sat on the edge of the bed. I tilted my head back and stared at the ceiling. My heartbeat was still too fast. My lips still felt warm. I let out a shaky breath and whispered to myself.

What am I doing.

The room stayed silent, like it was waiting for an answer I could not give.

My mind drifted back to the moment in the elevator earlier that night. The way Matteo kept glancing at me with that soft smile that he pretended was casual. The way he stood just a little too close. The way his voice got quieter every time he said fake boyfriend like there was something dangerous underneath it.

Am I being delusional. Probably.

I lay back on the mattress and stared at the ceiling fan. My hand slid slowly over my stomach, almost hesitant. I remembered the way he had touched my jaw. I remembered the way he whispered thank you in that low voice. I remembered how he sat beside me on the couch, thigh brushing mine, breath warm against my cheek.

My stomach tightened. That warmth turned into something heavier and more urgent. I bit my lower lip and let my hand drift lower. The pressure beneath my sweatpants grew almost immediately and I exhaled through my teeth.