**Astrid**

  I had kissed people before.

  I had kissed guys who were smooth, confident, and knew exactly how to respond. I had kissed guys who had done it so many times that they could py it off like it was nothing.

  Henry?

  Henry was not that.

  And I think that’s what made it so much better.

  The second my lips pressed against his, he tensed—completely froze like his brain had shut down. His hands hovered in the air, useless, as if he had no idea what to do with them.

  I could feel it—the hesitation, the sheer overthinking happening in real time.

  And for some reason, it made me want to ruin him.

  I kissed him harder, tilting my head, demanding more.

  It wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t perfect. But it was real.

  And when he finally—finally—started kissing me back, something in my chest flipped.

  Because holy shit.

  His hands—shaky, hesitant—slowly found their way to my waist, gripping just tightly enough to make my breath hitch.

  I had never seen Henry flustered before.

  I had never felt him like this before.

  I had teased him for weeks, stolen his space, pushed him just to see how far he would let me go. And every time, he had just smirked, rolled his eyes, acted like he was above it all.

  But now?

  Now, he was completely at my mercy.

  And God, I loved it.

  I pulled back just slightly, just enough to breathe.

  Henry’s eyes were wide, dazed—almost lost. His lips were parted, his hands still gripping me like he wasn’t sure if he should let go.

  I had never found him hot before.

  Attractive? Sure.

  He had always been annoyingly handsome in that effortless way—sharp jawline, dark, zy eyes, the kind of face that looked unfairly good even when he was sleep-deprived and miserable.

  But now?

  Now, with his hair slightly messy from my fingers, his breath uneven, and that stupidly dumbfounded expression on his face?

  Yeah.

  Now he was hot.

  And I definitely wasn’t prepared for that.

  A slow smirk curled on my lips as I tilted my head. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

  Henry blinked.

  Then, in the most Henry way possible, he exhaled and muttered, “You attacked me.”

  I ughed. “Oh my God, you are so dramatic.”

  “I was not expecting it!” he said, still trying to recover.

  I grinned, leaning in just slightly. “You liked it.”

  He looked at me, eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite pce.

  Then—finally—he smirked.

  “…Yeah,” he murmured, voice lower than usual. “I did.”

  And just like that, I was the one caught off guard.

  I blinked, my own brain short-circuiting for a second.

  Henry’s smirk widened slightly. “What? Not so cocky now?”

  I hated how smug he sounded.

  So, naturally, I kissed him again.

  And this time, I was so sure he kissed me back first.

  ***

  The next day, I could not stop thinking about it.

  The kiss.

  Kisses.

  Plural.

  Because of course it wasn’t just one.

  Because Henry, despite all his usual bluntness and overthinking, had actually kissed me back.

  And now, everything felt different.

  I had thought it would be easy—just another game, another push-and-pull between us.

  But no.

  Because when I kissed him, it wasn’t just a game.

  It was real.

  And that was a problem.

  I wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

  Like my chest tightened every time I thought about him.

  Like my skin buzzed when I remembered the way his hands had hesitated before gripping my waist.

  Like my stomach flipped when I pictured the way he had looked at me afterward—breathless, dazed, wrecked.

  God.

  What was this?

  I wasn’t used to this.

  I wasn’t used to wanting something real.

  And yet, here I was.

  Thinking about Henry.

  Again.

  I groaned, rubbing my face as I sat at my desk in css, trying to focus on anything else.

  But my mind kept fshing back to yesterday—his lips, his hands, and the way he froze before completely falling apart.

  I shifted in my seat, annoyed.

  How the hell did this happen?

  I was supposed to be in control here.

  I was supposed to be the one messing with him, not the other way around.

  And yet…

  I bit my lip, tapping my fingers against my desk impatiently as the lesson dragged on.

  I just needed to see him.

  To know that nothing had changed.

  That I hadn’t changed.

  That Henry was still Henry—annoying, blunt, completely incapable of lying.

  Because if he had changed—if I had changed—then what the hell was I supposed to do next?

  The bell finally rang, and I was out of my seat immediately, grabbing my stuff and making my way outside.

  I didn’t even bother checking my phone.

  I just knew where he would be.

  And sure enough, there he was—sitting at our usual spot behind G Block, looking completely unbothered as he scrolled through his phone, eating a sandwich.

  Like nothing happened.

  Like I hadn’t kissed the life out of him less than 24 hours ago.

  I exhaled slowly, my heart hammering in my chest.

  Okay.

  Cool.

  I could do this.

  I could just walk up to him, sit down, and pretend like I wasn’t about to lose my entire mind.

  Easy.

  I took a deep breath, rolled my shoulders back—

  And immediately ruined everything.

  Because instead of saying something casual, something teasing—something normal—I blurted out:

  “So, are we just… not gonna talk about it?”

  Henry paused mid-bite.

  Then, slowly, he turned his head to look at me.

  I regretted everything.

  His dark eyes scanned my face, unreadable as he chewed, taking his sweet time before swallowing.

  Then, in the most Henry way possible, he said—

  “Talk about what?”

  I gawked at him. “Are you serious?!”

  He smirked. “Nah. Just messing with you.”

  I wanted to strangle him.

  I wanted to grab him by the colr and shake him.

  Instead, I dropped my bag onto the ground, sat beside him, and stared directly into his soul.

  Henry, to his credit, barely blinked.

  I folded my arms. “Well?”

  He exhaled, setting his sandwich down like this was some kind of business meeting.

  “We kissed,” he said simply.

  I narrowed my eyes. “You think?”

  “I know,” he corrected, completely unbothered. “It happened. Multiple times, actually. You were very aggressive about it.”

  I scoffed. “You liked it.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah.”

  I froze.

  I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but that was…

  God.

  I hated him.

  And I definitely wanted to kiss him again.

  I cleared my throat, gripping my arms a little tighter. “So, uh. What now?”

  Henry leaned back against the wall, gazing up at the sky like he was actually thinking about it.

  Then he gnced at me, his expression calm.

  “We take it slow,” he said simply.

  I stared at him. “Slow.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Like… boring slow?”

  He smirked. “Like normal people slow.”

  I groaned, letting my head drop back. “God, you’re such a loser.”

  “And yet, you still kissed me,” he said smugly.

  I side-eyed him.

  Then, just to shut him up—

  I grabbed his stupid sandwich and took a massive bite out of it.

  Henry gasped. “Astrid, you absolute menace—”

  I smirked, chewing obnoxiously. “Mmm. Tastes like victory.”

  Henry exhaled sharply, rubbing his face. “This is what I get for liking you.”

  My heart stumbled slightly.

  But instead of reacting, I just grinned.

  Something in my chest flipped.

  I knew he wasn’t saying it in some grand, romantic way. Henry wasn’t like that. He was blunt, logical, painfully straightforward.

  But that just made it so much worse.

  Because he meant it.

  I had known for a while that he liked me—he wouldn’t have put up with all my teasing if he didn’t—but hearing him say it so casually, like it was just a fact of life?

  Yeah.

  I definitely wanted to kiss him again.

  I shifted slightly, leaning closer. Just enough for him to notice.

  Nothing.

  I hummed thoughtfully, adjusting my position so that our knees brushed.

  Still nothing.

  I sighed dramatically, tilting my head and letting my gaze flicker to his lips so obviously that even the dumbest person on the pnet would’ve picked up on it.

  Surely he’d get the hint.

  Henry just picked his sandwich back up and took another bite, completely unbothered.

  I stared.

  I was trying to make it easy for him. I wasn’t being subtle—I was practically handing him the opportunity on a silver ptter.

  And yet, here he was, chewing like an oblivious idiot.

  Unbelievable.

  I exhaled sharply, narrowing my eyes. “Henry.”

  He hummed, still chewing. “Mm?”

  I leaned in a little more. “Kiss me.”

  Henry choked.

  He immediately turned his head away, coughing violently as he tried to recover. “Excuse me?”

  I smirked, resting my chin in my hand. “You heard me.”

  His eyes darted to mine, then away, then back again like his brain was struggling to process the words.

  “I—” He blinked rapidly. “I—now?”

  “Yes, now.”

  He let out a deeply anxious breath. “Like, right here?”

  I gave him an exasperated look. “No, Henry, I meant next Tuesday in a haunted mansion under a full moon. Yes, right here.”

  Henry visibly struggled. His ears were red.

  And I loved it.

  I tilted my head, smirking. “What, scared?”

  His jaw clenched slightly, his fingers tightening around the edge of his sandwich wrapper.

  “I can,” he muttered, like this was some kind of personal challenge.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Then do it.”

  Henry swallowed hard, shifting slightly. I could see the internal war happening in his head—his usual calm, logical self fighting against whatever disastrous mess of feelings was currently wrecking his brain.

  He turned to face me fully, inhaling like he was preparing himself for battle.

  Then, slowly—so awkwardly slow—he leaned in.

  I blinked.

  Was this happening?

  Was Henry actually—

  He hesitated.

  His face was so close to mine, but he just… stopped.

  Frozen in pce.

  I stared at him, waiting.

  Henry’s brow furrowed, clearly overthinking everything. His lips parted slightly, and I could tell he was trying—he really was—but his entire body was locked up like a glitching robot.

  Oh my God.

  He was never going to get there at this rate.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “For fuck’s sake,” I muttered.

  Then, before he could react, I grabbed his face and kissed him myself.

  Henry whimpered.

  I felt it—the way his whole body shuddered against my hands, the way his breath hitched the second our lips met.

  For a second, he didn’t even move.

  Then, slowly, his hands found my waist, gripping me so hesitantly that I almost groaned in frustration.

  “Rex,” I murmured against his lips.

  He made a soft noise in the back of his throat but obeyed, his grip tightening slightly.

  And finally, finally, he kissed me back.

  It was messy—still so unsure, so careful—but it was Henry, and that made it so much better.

  I smiled against his mouth, feeling his hands shake slightly as he tried to figure out what to do with them.

  And honestly?

  I kind of loved that I made him like this.