A Stolen Heart.

“We kissed!” I exclaimed, my heart dancing with excitement. “I can’t be partners with a guy I’ve kissed—kiss, kiss, kiss!” I teased, the words tumbling out like playful confetti.

His hand swiftly covered my mouth, and his ears flushed crimson. “Stop it! Aren’t you embarrassed?” he mumbled, his touch both gentle and urgent.

“You’re embarrassed too, right?” I persisted, a mischievous glint in my eyes. “See? You shouldn’t have crossed that line with a partner,” I chided, playfully tapping his shoulder.

He seized my hand, his grip firm yet oddly electrifying. “Stop hitting me,” he whispered, his voice tinged with excitement. “Take responsibility for seducing me.”

I scoffed, my heart fluttering. “Whatever. I don’t owe you anything.” But then he said those unexpected words, “Yes, you do. You have my heart.”

Surprised, I stammered, “I never asked for it.”

“You stole it,” he declared, confidence radiating from his gaze.

I shuddered, caught off guard. “What the heck. How cringe,” I muttered, trying to regain my composure. “Do you really like me? Why? Give me three reasons.”

His response was both audacious and endearing. “One, you’re cool. Two, you’re a better person than I am. And three, I want to go out with someone better than me.”

I couldn’t help but be amazed. “What an ambitious guy.”

He leaned in, his eyes narrowing playfully. “I have to be greedy when it comes to girls,” he said, a pretentious smile curving his lips.