Kira’s POV
When Kennedy and I walked out of the house together, heading toward his car in the driveway, he glanced at with a slight frown.
"Your boyfriend will be okay with you riding with ?"
I waved my hand dismissively. "We’re not talking right now. It’s fine."
More than fine. It’s perfect.
My hand was already on the passenger door handle, anticipation thrumming through my veins, when I heard it.
"KIRA! Baby, wait!"
Oh no. Oh God, no.
I turned to see the imposter running out of the house like his pants were on fire, waving his arms dramatically.
"Baby, why are you leaving without ?"
I froze, my entire body going rigid. Baby? Since when?Why is he acting like a complete idiot?
He jogged up to us, slightly out of breath, and turned to Kennedy with a confused expression. "Is she going with you? Should I co too? Are we heading back to Maxwell’s mansion?"
Hell no, you psycho.
"That’s fine with ," Kennedy offered readily, ever the gentleman. "I’m going back to Maxwell’s anyway. We can all ride together."
"NO!" I scread out loud, then realizing myself, I cald down. "I an... no. I’m not sitting in the sa car with him."
The imposter’s face fell. He actually had the audacity to look hurt. "Kira, baby, why are you being like this? Did I do sothing wrong? I noticed you’ve been avoiding since we arrived here."
He reached for my arm, and I jerked away like he’d tried to brand with a hot iron.
"Don’t touch ," I hissed. "We’re not talking, rember? I need space."
Fake Oliver blinked, his face filled with genuine confusion. "We... we quarreled?"
"Yes!" I nearly shouted. "We quarreled this morning!"
"We did?" He looked baffled. "I wasn’t aware we’d quarreled. When did this happen?"
"How would you know?!" My voice was rising now. "You wouldn’t know because...because..."
Because you’re not the real Oliver, you fraud!
"Okay, okay." Kennedy stepped between us, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "It’s fine. Oliver can join us. Everyone else has left, and we can’t just abandon him here."
I glared at Kennedy. Yes, we absolutely can. Let’s abandon him here.
But Kennedy was already opening the back door, gesturing for fake Oliver to get in.
I said nothing - because what could I say? - just yanked open the passenger door and threw myself into the seat, arms crossed, practically vibrating with frustration.
This is not how this was supposed to go.
Kennedy slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. "So, Kira, what’s your address? I’ll need directions to your apartnt."
I turned to stare at him. "Why are you asking that?"
"Because I don’t know where you live?" He said it like it was obvious. "I need your address to drop you ho."
"It’s fine," I said through gritted teeth. "Drop Oliver first. Then you can drop next."
Kennedy’s lips curved into a small smile. "You know I’m also staying at Maxwell’s place for now, right?"
Oh my God. Is he being deliberately dense, or does he really not understand what I’m trying to say?
"Yes, I know that," I said slowly, like I was speaking to a dumb child. "But I’d like us to go sowhere. Just the two of us. To catch up on old tis."
From the backseat, fake Oliver’s voice piped up. "That sounds fun! I’d like to join you guys too. I don’t really want to go back to the mansion right now. Plus, it’s been a while we spent ti outside the bedroom, baby."
What!? The bedroom?
I whipped around in my seat to glare at him with the full force of my fury. "I. Don’t. Want. You. There. We’re quarreling, rember?"
"But..."
"NO."
Kennedy was laughing now, his shoulders shaking. "Oliver, maybe next ti. I promise you, your girlfriend is in safe hands. I’ll take care of her."
I turned back around to face forward, my face burning. He thinks I’m in a serious relationship with that imposter. Perfect. Just perfect.
But I didn’t care what Kennedy thought about my fake relationship status. I was getting that kiss.
One way or another.
The drive to Maxwell’s mansion felt like the longest ride ever.
Fake Oliver kept trying to make conversation from the backseat - asking about the lunch, about Kennedy’s work, about literally anything - and I wanted to strangle him with my bare hands.
Finally - finally - we pulled up to Maxwell’s gates.
"Thanks for the ride, man," fake Oliver said, opening his door.
But before he got out, he leaned forward between the seats and looked at with earnest, puppy-dog eyes.
"Kira, I’ll call you later, okay? I love you so much. And I’m really sorry for whatever I did to upset you this morning. I would never do anything to hurt you on purpose."
Oh my God. Oh my God, just leave.
I forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "Sure. Great. Bye."
He waved enthusiastically as he walked toward the mansion entrance, turning back twice to wave again before finally disappearing inside.
The mont he was gone, Kennedy started driving, and I let out the longest breath of my life.
"Rough patch with the boyfriend?" Kennedy asked, his tone not giving out anything.
"Sothing like that."
We drove in silence for a mont before Kennedy spoke again. "So, where would you like to go? Do you have a favorite place?"
Yes. Your bedroom. Preferably with fewer clothes.
"There’s a lounge I like," I said instead. "On the east side. It’s quiet. Private. Good for... catching up."
"Sounds perfect. Direct ?"
I gave him turn-by-turn directions, hyperaware of every movent he made. The way his hands gripped the steering wheel. The flex of his forearm when he shifted gears. The way his jaw tightened slightly when he concentrated.
Get it together, Kira. You’re acting like a teenager with her first crush.
But that’s exactly how I felt. Like I was eighteen again, watching Kennedy from across a room and wishing he’d look at the way he looked at everyone else. Like I was twenty-two, confessing my feelings at graduation only to have him gently, kindly, devastatingly turn down because he was already in love with Phoebe.
Except now Phoebe was gone. And Kennedy was single. And he’d asked this morning if I wanted him to kiss .
The drive felt both too long and too short. My imagination ran wild with possibilities - his mouth on mine, his hands in my hair, his body pressing against a wall while he kissed like he’d been waiting years to do it.
Focus. You’re almost there.
We finally pulled up outside the lounge - a cozy little place I’d discovered with Olivia a few months ago. Dark interior, colorful mood lighting, private corners perfect for intimate conversations.
Or intimate activities.
We walked inside together, and I imdiately headed for the most secluded corner I could find - a curved booth, lit only by soft purple and blue lights.
"This is nice," Kennedy said, sliding into the booth beside . Not across from . Beside .
"It’s one of my favorite spots," I said, hyperaware of how close he was. Close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss.
A waitress appeared, and we ordered drinks - whiskey for him, wine for - and then we were alone again.
Finally.
Kennedy leaned back against the booth, one arm stretched along the back, his body angled toward mine.
"So," he said.
"So," I echoed.
The silence stretched out, charged with sothing electric. Sothing that made my skin tingle and my heart race.
I couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t sit here pretending all was well, when there were so many bigger things that needed to be said.
"Did you an it?" I imdiately got down to business. "What you said at lunch? That you’re free and ready to explore... possibilities?"
Kennedy’s expression softened. "I deserve so happiness, don’t I?"
"Yes." My voice ca out breathier than intended. "You absolutely do."
"Kira..."
"Is your offer still standing?" I interrupted, my courage building with each word.
"What offer?"
"The one you made this morning. In the bedroom. About..." I swallowed hard. "About kissing ."
Kennedy’s eyes darkened, and I watched him lean forward slightly. "Kira, I’m sorry if I was too forward with all that. I shouldn’t have put you in that position. I don’t want to risk your relationship with your boyfriend, even if you two are having problems right now..."
I didn’t let him finish.
I grabbed his face with both hands and smashed my mouth against his.
For a split second, Kennedy went completely still - surprised, frozen, not responding.
Oh God. What if he doesn’t want this? What if I misread everything?
But then he groaned, and his hands ca up to cup my face, tilting my head to get a better angle as he kissed back with an intensity that made my toes curl.
Finally. Finally, finally, finally.
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