"Bruh, my camera," Marcus muttered, half-laughing as Adrian practically snatched it out of his hands like a man on a mission. His brows lifted as he watched his friend frantically swipe through the gallery, eyes narrowing like he was hunting for classified evidence.
"You look like a man possessed. That desperate to delete?" Marcus asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. "Relax, man. I'm not that type of guy. I don't go around leaking accidental lips collisions."
Adrian didn't respond. The red fabric that had once tied his leg to Ivan's lay forgotten on the grass beside his shoes. His focus was zeroed in on Marcus's camera screen, fingers moving too quickly as if he could scrub the moment out of existence through sheer will.
"Adrian, looks like I won, huh?"
Ethan's smug voice cut through the noise like nails on glass. He strolled toward them with his medal hanging proudly around his neck and a grin that screamed 'please punch me.' His chest puffed out with undeserved pride.
Even though Ethan was the one who'd caused the collision in the first place, he was blissfully unaware of the chaos he'd set off. He just wanted to bask in victory.
"Hello? Am I talking to a wall?" Ethan added, annoyed that Adrian wasn't reacting.
Adrian barely spared him a glance, flipping through more photos with single-minded focus. "Yeah, yeah. Congrats, champ." Adrian mumbled, waving a hand without looking up. He tossed the words out like spare change, utterly dismissive.
Ethan blinked, thrown. No fiery comeback? No dramatic sulking? Just… nothing? His triumphant grin faltered. "Seriously? That's all I get?"
Adrian didn't even look up. "Yep."
Ethan's grin faltered even more. What could possibly be more important than me winning for once? he thought bitterly. When Adrian didn't even bother to respond, he clicked his tongue and stalked off, muttering something under his breath.
Marcus watched the exchange, still leaning lazily against the bleachers. "You good?"
Adrian finally exhaled and handed the camera back. "Send me the pic later. Then delete it. And if I ever see that thing online, I'm haunting you."
Marcus snorted. "You're acting like I caught you kissing a celebrity or something."
Adrian froze. Don't remind me.
"Yeah, sure," Marcus continued casually, shrugging and tossing a thumbs-up. "Scout's honor." Then he slung his camera bag over his shoulder and walked off whistling, leaving Adrian standing there, jaw tight and mind spiraling.
He didn't even get a second to breathe before Leon appeared, grinning ear to ear. "Soooooo," he drawled, slinging an arm around Adrian's shoulders, "Is it true?" Leon asked, tone casual but his eyes gleaming with gossip.
"What?" Adrian asked, pretending to sound clueless, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I heard you..." Leon leaned closer, smirking, "accidentally kissed the loner guy. Ivan, right?"
Adrian's jaw tightened a fraction. He's not a loner.
"Ah, yeah…" Adrian replied finally, forcing his signature grin back onto his face. "You know me, man. Everything's part of the plan." He chuckled, elbowing Leon playfully. "Gotta keep things interesting if I wanna win that fifty bucks, right?"
Leon blinked, then burst out laughing. "Bro, you're insane. I thought you were done after the handshake stunt, but this? Damn, method acting!"
"Guess I'm committed," Adrian said, laughing along, though the sound felt hollow in his own ears.
"Anyway," Leon added, still grinning, "Ethan finally got his glory moment this year. You feel okay?"
Adrian shrugged. "Let him have it. It's his turn in the spotlight. I'm not that petty."
"Wow, look at you being all mature."
"Yeah, I'm practically saint material." Adrian's smirk returned, but even that couldn't cover the slight tremor in his thoughts.
By the time the final ceremony rolled around, Adrian stood on stage. The medal glinting under the sun as the camera flash went off. The usual cheers, the usual smiles, the usual everything. He'd done this a hundred times before.
But his mind? Trapped in an endless loop. Still replaying that split-second collision in high-definition.
Every time he remembered the feeling, rough, unplanned and the faint taste of adrenaline and sweat, his stomach twisted. He should've been disgusted. He was disgusted. At least, that's what he told himself every five minutes. When the image resurfaced again, he grimaced. "This is the devil's work," he muttered under his breath as the teacher draped the ribbon around his neck.
That night, he tossed and turned in bed, the ceiling fan spinning lazily above him. He'd buried his face in the pillow, but the memory refused to leave. Every time he closed his eyes, his brain conjured that stupid scene again but this time… different.
In his dream, Ivan pinned beneath him, dark eyes hazy with want. He didn't shove him away. Instead, he was leaning in. Adrian tracing the curve of his jaw before sealing their mouths together properly this time, slow and deep and nothing like the clumsy collision from before.
He woke up at 3 a.m. with a gasp, the sheets tangled around his waist and his body thrumming with restless energy like he'd been electrocuted. He stared at the ceiling for a long second before glancing down, confirmed what he already knew.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
Then he groaned, dragging a pillow over his face. "This is a curse. A full-on witch's curse."
A dream? Fine. Whatever.
But this? Over Ivan?
He laid there for a good minute, groaning into his pillow. "Seriously, just one accidental kiss and my brain's already corrupted? What the heck, Ian." He smacked himself lightly on the forehead.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Marcus.
The message preview read:"lmao, thought you'd want a copy ;)"
One attachment.
Adrian hesitated for all of three seconds before tapping it open and instantly regretted it.
The photo filled the screen, sharper and somehow worse than before. Ivan's expression, startled but calm and Adrian's face frozen mid-fall, eyes wide. The sun behind them turned everything golden, making the moment look way too cinematic.
They looked… like something out of a romance movie. He swallowed hard.
No. Nope. Not thinking that. He locked his phone, shoved it under his pillow, and groaned into his hands.