CALESTINO

The second our mouths crashed together, six years of silence shattered inside me like glass I’d been swallowing every day since he walked out.

Lorenzo tasted exactly the same—smoke, mint, and that sharp, metallic danger that always made my brain short-circuit. His hands were in my hair instantly, yanking the cap free, fisting my locks so tight my scalp stung in the best way.

I backed him into the glass wall, the city lights smearing behind him like they were bleeding for us. His tongue slid against mine, hungry, claiming, like he was rewriting every memory I’d tried to bury.

I shoved his shirt open. Buttons pinged across the...