Chapter One: One Kiss
The first mistake Aria made that night was ordering tequila. The second was daring the universe to surprise her.
She didn’t expect the universe to answer in the form of a six-foot-three stranger with inked forearms, a devilish smile, and the kind of voice that made her spine shiver like it had secrets to whisper.
But then again, she hadn’t expected to walk in on her ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend wrapped up together like a bad cliché either.
"Another round?" the bartender asked.
Aria slid her empty shot glass across the counter, eyes unfocused. “Surprise me.”
She wasn’t crying. Not really. Just blinking aggressively. No tears. No breakdown. Not in public. Not in the same bar where Mason used to bring her for Thursday night trivia and pretend he didn’t know Sophie’s favorite song.
God, she had been so stupid.
"Rough night?" a voice asked beside her.
She turned—and paused.
The man had that polished-rogue kind of look: leather jacket slung over a black T-shirt, stubble that looked intentional, and hair like he’d run his fingers through it a thousand times and still looked annoyingly good.
His smile was half-wicked, half-sympathy. And his eyes… hazel with flecks of gold, dancing with mischief. She hated that they made her heart skip.
“You could say that,” she said, dryly.
“Ex?”
She snorted. “Cheating ex. Best friend combo.”
He let out a low whistle. “Ouch. That’s a double betrayal. Definitely tequila-worthy.”
“Exactly what I said,” she muttered, gripping her new glass.
“Can I offer a cure?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Unless it’s a time machine, I’m not interested.”
He grinned. “Better. Distraction.”
His confidence was borderline arrogant—but charming. Dangerous. The kind that came with heartbreak warnings. And yet something about him felt safe in its boldness. Real.
“I’m not sleeping with you,” she said flatly.
He didn’t flinch. “Didn’t ask.”
That surprised her.
“What I meant,” he continued, swirling the whiskey in his glass, “was that sometimes the best way to erase the past is with a new memory.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “What kind of memory?”
He leaned in. Not too close, but enough to smell like cedarwood and heat and something sinful. “A kiss.”
She laughed. “You’re serious?”
“One kiss. No names. No strings. No expectations.”
She stared at him. “That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.”
He smiled. “But you’re considering it.”
She hated that he was right.
Something about the reckless absurdity felt… freeing. One kiss. Just to remind herself that she could feel something other than betrayal. That she was more than what Mason had discarded.
“What’s the catch?” she asked.
“No catch.” He set down his drink. “Well… maybe one.”
“Of course,” she murmured.
“You have to mean it.”
She blinked. “Mean it?”
“No pretending. No half-assed peck. You kiss me like you want to forget him.”
Something in her chest clenched.
And before she could talk herself out of it, she stood. “Fine.”
His eyebrows rose, amused. “That easy?”
“You offered a distraction. Let’s see if you deliver.”
He followed her toward the back exit of the bar, through the door into the cool night air. The alley behind the bar was quiet, string lights flickering above. Romantic in a forgotten kind of way.
She turned to face him, heart beating a little too fast. “So. Rules?”
He smiled. “Just one. No thinking about him.”
“And after?”
He shrugged. “We walk away.”
Simple.
Dangerous.
She stepped closer, tilting her chin. “Alright then, stranger.”
He looked at her like he was reading a poem no one else could understand. Then his hand lifted—slowly, gently—and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.
The first touch was electric.
She hadn't realized how touch-starved she was. How long it had been since someone looked at her like she mattered.
His fingers slid behind her neck, pulling her in. And then his lips met hers.
The world silenced.
It wasn’t soft. Or polite. It was slow-burning, deep, and devastating. He kissed like a man unraveling a mystery—curious and unhurried—until she felt dizzy with something that wasn’t pain for the first time in weeks.
Her hands found his jacket, clutching. His thumb stroked under her jaw, like he wanted to remember the shape of her heartbreak and undo it.
She forgot Mason. Forgot Sophie. Forgot herself.
It was just heat and breath and sensation.
When they finally pulled apart, both breathless, she didn’t speak.
Neither did he.
For a moment, they just stared at each other—both stunned.
“…Damn,” he said finally.
She laughed. Not bitterly. For the first time in a long time, it was real.
“That was…” she began.
“Unexpected,” he finished.
She turned to go. “Well. Thanks for the distraction.”
“Wait.”
She paused.
“I lied,” he said.
Her brow furrowed. “About?”
He pulled out his phone, opened his Notes app, and tapped something. Then handed it to her.
The Kissing Contract
Terms:
No strings.
Only public kissing.
Ends when either person catches feelings.
Until then: practice weekly.
She looked up at him, stunned. “Is this a joke?”
He smiled. “What if we did this… again? Fake dating. Public appearances. Some fun. No commitment.”
She shook her head, laughing. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe. But you smiled.”
She tried to fight the grin. Lost.
“I don’t even know your name.”
“Luca,” he said. “And you?”
She hesitated. Then, “Aria.”
“Well, Aria,” he said, holding out the phone, “What do you say?”
She stared at it.
A kissing contract.
It was stupid. Unrealistic. Probably a terrible idea.
So of course… she tapped “Accept.”
As she walked back inside, cheeks flushed and heart rattled, she didn’t look back.
She didn’t see Luca’s smirk fade into something softer.
Or the way he whispered under his breath, “One kiss, and I’m already breaking the rules.”
