The First Kiss

In the empty Voss hall, Beckett's hand tightens on Topher's waist, the star pendant still warm between their palms. Topher's breath ghosts across Beckett's lips, and then they're kissing—a slow, searching press that makes Beckett's fire surge and settle all at once. Topher's cool fingers slide up the back of Beckett's neck, steadying the trembling heat, and Beckett groans against his mouth. When they break apart, Topher's gray eyes are bright, and his thumb traces the scorch mark Beckett's hand left on the table. 'We have to decide what happens now,' Topher whispers, but his hand stays on Beckett's neck, pulling him back in.