She pulled back first. Barely. Just enough to breathe.
Damien's forehead rested against hers, both of them still pressed close. The music thumped around them, but it felt far away now — like the world had shrunk to just this.
"Was that… impulsive?" she asked, voice low.
Damien's lips curved slightly. "Only if you regret it."
Celeste exhaled. "I don't."
He nodded once, thumb brushing her cheek like he was memorizing the shape of her calm. "Then no. Not impulsive. Just… overdue."
That made her laugh. Quiet, but real.
"I haven't kissed anyone in months," she said.
"I figured," he said, smirking. "You were way too slow."
She smacked his shoulder. "Shut up."
Damien chuckled, but didn't step away. His hand slid down to hers, fingers lacing between hers like it was nothing — like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"You wanna stay here?" he asked. "Or head back?"
Celeste hesitated, then looked toward the door. The room felt heavy now. Too full of everything they'd just said without saying.
"I think I'm done pretending to enjoy loud music and sweaty strangers."
He raised an eyebrow. "So you were pretending."
"Obviously."
He laughed again and led her toward the exit. She didn't let go of his hand.
Outside, the air was cooler. Quieter. The street still buzzed with life, but none of it touched them. Their driver was already waiting — Damien always had things planned. Celeste slid into the backseat beside him, the silence between them easy now, comfortable.
Halfway back to the villa, she leaned her head on his shoulder. Just for a moment.
"You're good at this," she murmured.
"At what?"
"Being what I need… without asking me what I need."
He didn't answer right away.
Then, quietly: "Maybe because I've needed that too."
She didn't reply. Didn't move.
Just stayed there, eyes closed, letting herself feel warm for the first time in a long time.