---
The air in the living room had shifted. Heavier. Warmer. Every glance, every laugh now carried tension beneath it—unspoken, loaded.
The bottle stopped spinning. Again.
"Ren," Reina smirked, brushing her hair over one shoulder. "Dare."
I didn't even pretend to hesitate anymore. "Go on."
"I dare you to French kiss me for ten whole seconds," she said. "No pulling away. Touch me like you mean it."
The silence was deafening.
I stood and walked over to her, offering my hand. She took it, rising slowly.
I didn't count the seconds—I lost track the moment my lips crashed into hers. Her body pressed against mine, soft and eager. My hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips as her fingers tangled in my hair. The kiss wasn't just deep—it was raw, full of tension we weren't even pretending to hide anymore.
When we finally separated, Reina looked flushed. Satisfied.
The circle had gone quiet.
"Damn," Mei whispered. Ayame didn't say a word. Elira's eyes were unreadable.
