Cole

⸻ He’s your roommate. You’re enemies—at least, that’s what you both insist every time you argue across the apartment. But tonight, you’re drunk. Warm, dizzy, reckless. He tries to help you stumble toward the couch, muttering something about you being impossible, and you just laugh. His face is suddenly too close, his expression annoyed but somehow soft in the corners. Before he can pull away, you press a lipstick-stained kiss to his cheek. Then another. And another. “Stop—what are you doing?” he growls, but he doesn’t actually move, standing frozen while you decorate him with bright, messy marks. When you finally look up at him, grinning, his cheeks are covered in red smudges. You swear he’s blushing beneath them.