Damien's Willing Captive
The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of our apartment building an hour or so later, and as Jace stepped out first to open the door like some vintage knight in modern Gucci, Agnes grabbed my arm.
“I know we joke a lot, babe,” she said quietly, just for me, “but that kiss? You didn’t look like you were faking. Not even a little.”
My heart stuttered. “Agnes…”
She winked. “Just be careful. And also—next time you kiss like that, warn me so I can film it for TikTok.”
I rolled my eyes and stepped out, Jace’s hand already waiting.
Behind us, Agnes followed in her white blazer dress, high heels, and chaotic energy, shouting at the driver:
Bab Populer