Rooftop's Conversations

Felix pulls away, a spark still flickering in his eyes. My breath catches, and I instinctively step back, only to bump into the edge of the billiard table. He chuckles.

"Careful. Don't fall for me too hard."

I groan. "That line was illegal."

He gives an exaggerated shrug and leans against the table like he owns it—well, technically he does. "What can I say? I live dangerously."

I wipe my mouth, pretending I'm composed. Pretending this isn't something. But my pulse is sprinting and my lips are tingling and I'm pretty sure my brain is fried. I sit down on the long couch, trying to ground myself. He follows, sprawling beside me with infuriating ease, his head tipped back to the stars.

"You okay?" he asks, voice teasing but laced with real concern.

I exhale. "Just … you're a lot."

He grins. "Tell me something I don't know."

"You're annoyingly a good kisser."