Just One Kiss - Short Story

Beck’s halfway through a pint of cookie dough ice cream, scrolling on my phone when he says, “I dare you to kiss me and not fall in love.”

I pause mid-scroll, thumb hovering over my phone screen. “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”

He grins like it’s a challenge, not an insult. “Come on, Sloane. You’ve lived here for seven months and I’ve seen you dodge more feelings than red flags. You’re overdue.”

 I roll my eyes and lean back into the couch cushions. “Please. If anything, you’re the one catching feelings. I’ve seen the way you look at me when I walk around in that Nirvana tee.”

 “It’s not the tee. It’s the fact that you don’t wear pants with it.”

 “Comfort is essential.” I scoff.

 Beck shifts toward me, setting the ice cream on the coffee table, his voice dropping just enough to stir something low in my stomach. “So what’s the problem, then? Scared you might actually like it?”

 “I’m not scared,” I say, sounding exactly like someone who is absolutely scared.

 “Then kiss me,” he says, all cocky confidence and spark. “And prove it.”

 It’s stupid. It’s dangerous.

It’s also Beck. my six-foot-three, too-charming-for-his-own-good roommate with tousled hair and a habit of walking around shirtless when he’s bored.

 I’ve avoided this tension for months. But right now, with the way he’s looking at me, all that restraint feels like it’s hanging on by a thread.

 So I kiss him. Just one kiss.

 Or that’s what I tell myself when I lean in, my hand fisting in the front of his hoodie like I’m still deciding. I’m not. The second my lips touch his, it’s like everything inside me jolts. I expect it to be light. Teasing. 

It’s not.

 His mouth moves over mine like he’s been waiting for this. Like he knew I’d cave eventually. One hand braces against the back of the couch behind me, the other slides to my waist, tugging me closer until I’m half in his lap, half too dizzy to care.

 The kiss deepens and everything else falls away, logic, pride, the fact that we share a bathroom.

 I finally pull back, breath catching, and immediately regret it.

 Because he’s still looking at me like that. Like I’m not just a dare anymore.

 “Well?” he says, voice low and rough. “Still winning?”

 I swallow. Hard. Then shrug. “It was just a kiss.”

 He leans in, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You gonna run now, or admit you want more?”

 I shove off his lap like it’s no big deal, heart thundering. “I’m going to bed.”

 “Sure you are.”

 Smug bastard.

I make it exactly thirteen minutes in my room before I snap.

I brush my teeth. Change into a tank top and shorts. Climb into bed. Scroll Instagram. Try a podcast. Stare at the ceiling.

And the whole time, I can still feel Beck’s mouth on mine. The way he kissed me like it meant something. Like he knew I’d come crawling back for more.

Ass.

I throw the covers off and stalk down the hall barefoot, hoping he’s asleep so I can pretend I’m just grabbing water and not, you know, spiraling.

The kitchen light’s off, but the fridge casts a faint glow across the space, and there he is. Shirtless. Leaning on the counter like he knew I’d come looking.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks, voice low and thick.

“I’m thirsty,” I lie, reaching for a glass.

He doesn’t move. Just watches me with that unreadable look he gets when he’s pretending to be chill but already three steps ahead.

I fill the glass. Take a sip. Set it down.

Then blurt, “That kiss didn’t count.”

His brow lifts. “Didn’t count?”

I wave a hand. “Too much ice cream on your breath. Mood killer.”

He laughs under his breath. “You want a do-over.”

“No, I just…” I trail off. Shit. “You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

He crosses the room slowly, giving me every second to stop him. I don’t. I should.

But instead, I breathe, “Then kiss me again.”

And this time, it’s nothing like the first.

He grabs my hips and lifts me onto the counter like I weigh nothing. His mouth crashes into mine, all heat and hunger and something else that makes my toes curl. I gasp, and he uses it, deepening the kiss until I’m arching into him, hands gripping his shoulders like they’re the only steady thing in the world.

I don’t remember saying yes. Don’t remember agreeing to anything beyond that second kiss.

But then he’s dragging his hands up under my tank top, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts, and I’m nodding like a damn bobblehead, pulling him closer, legs wrapping around his waist.

“Bedroom?” he growls against my neck.

“Too far.”

He laughs, low and sinful and then he’s dropping to his knees in front of me like he’s worshiping something. Like this whole dare was just a setup for exactly this moment. Then he slides my panties down my legs and off.

I let my head fall back as his hands grip my thighs, spreading them. His breath is hot. His mouth is hotter.

And when he finally touches me, tongue and lips and fingers working in sync like he knows every part of me already, I stop pretending I’m winning this game.

Because I’m not.

I’m unraveling.

Coming undone on a kitchen counter with my roommate’s name on my lips and nothing between us but every line we just shattered.

---

I wake up the next morning tangled in Beck’s sheets, wearing his shirt and nothing else.

Sunlight filters through the blinds, and he’s already awake, lying on his side with his head propped on his hand like he’s been watching me sleep.

“You fell in love, didn’t you?” he says, teasing.

I narrow my eyes. “You’re delusional.”

“You moaned my name last night. Twice.”

“That’s not love. That’s biology.”

He laughs and leans in, brushing his lips against mine. “Then let’s test the theory.”

I roll onto my back, already grinning. “One more kiss?”

“Kiss?”

He shakes his head. “No more bets. I’m in this for real.” His eyes pinging between mine.

And damn it… I think I am too.

All I can do is nod my head.

It’s all he needs to continue.

His mouth meets mine again, slower this time, like he’s not proving a point anymore, just making a promise. One I’m suddenly ready to believe in.

Because somehow, in between shared groceries, late-night trash TV, and one reckless dare, I stopped guarding my heart and gave it to the one person I never saw coming.

My roommate.

My mistake.

Maybe my future.

---

Copyright © by LS Phoenix

No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Published by LS Phoenix

New Hampshire, USA

https://linktr.ee/authorlsphoenix

First Edition: April 2025

Cover Design by LS Phoenix