My throat went dry. "Uhm, no... sorry, I thought you were someone else," I stammered, already stepping back.
But he reached out and gently caught my wrist before I could leave.
"Mistaken me for someone?" he asked, voice low, laced with amusement. "No, do it with me, Yuri. Fulfill the fucking dare. Your friends watching? Then do it-unless you want to walk back there humiliated."
"N-no. I can't-" I muttered, tugging my hand away. "Trevor, this isn't funny. I didn't know it was you. I wouldn't have agreed if I had known."
"Then don't do it," he said coolly, backing away a step. "Go back there. Let them laugh. Let them think you backed out. You care what they think, don't you?"
I clenched my fists. He knew exactly how to push my buttons.
"Why are you even here? I thought you don't drink or go to places like this."
"I said I can't drink. I didn't say I don't. There's a huge difference," Trevor said coolly, his voice like a blade-precise, thinly veiled with irritation. "And just so we're clear-I didn't walk in here expecting to be someone's punchline."
I blinked. "It's not like that."
"Oh really?" He stepped an inch closer. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks exactly like that. You tap my shoulder, say it's a dare, then freeze like I'm the mistake."
"I didn't know it was you!" I hissed, feeling my face heat up. "I thought-ugh, never mind."
He scoffed. "Of course. That makes it better. Random guy, no problem. But me? Suddenly you panic."
"It's not personal."
"Isn't it?" he asked, tilting his head. "Funny how you looked at me like I'd ruined the whole game."
I looked away, jaw tightening. "I didn't mean to insult you. I was trying to back out-gracefully."
"Gracefully? Yuri, you just asked me to help you win a dare and recoiled like I was toxic."
"I just didn't expect you, okay? I didn't plan this."
A pause.
He exhaled slowly, his gaze softening just a little. "Neither did I."
The air shifted. The noise of the club dulled behind the weight of the moment.
I swallowed. "So... what now?"
He stared at me for a long second. His voice dropped.
"You really gonna walk away after coming all this way?"
My brows furrowed. "You told me to."
"Yeah," he said. "But maybe I wanted to see if you'd still do it."
The music pulsed low between us. My hands were sweating.
"Trevor-"
"Just do it," he murmured, like a dare of his own. "If you're gonna kiss someone tonight, it might as well be someone who won't make a joke out of it."
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I didn't know what to say. My whole body screamed to walk away, but something about the look in his eyes-steady, unreadable-kept me rooted.
"Don't worry," he said. "You don't owe me anything. Walk away. Tell your friends I turned you down. Saves you the embarrassment."
My pride flared.
His words sliced clean through my pride. I could practically hear Imelda's voice echoing behind me, the laughter at the table, the judgment in the air.
"No," I said, louder than I meant to. "I'm not walking away because of some awkward history or your... dramatic assumptions."
His lips twitched-just the barest hint of a smirk. "So you're still stubborn."
"And you're still impossible," I shot back, heart pounding.
For a second, neither of us spoke. The tension hung heavy-taunting.
Then, he sighed.
"Fine," he muttered, stepping closer. "If this dare's happening... then stop talking."
"What?"
"You talk too much," he said, voice quieter now. "Just kiss me already."
My jaw tightened. I'd had enough.
I grabbed his tie, yanked him down, and kissed him.
It wasn't just a kiss.
It was an explosion.
Raw. Deep. Reckless. Our mouths collided like they had unfinished business-like the years between us had only sharpened the hunger. His hands found my waist, grounding me as our bodies pressed closer. Tongues tangled, breath hitching, heartbeats pounding. It was messy. Heated. Addictive.
For a moment, the club didn't exist. No music. No people. Just him. Just us.
When we finally pulled apart, breathless, my lips tingled and my chest was heaving.
He stared at me-eyes unreadable. Dangerous.
I smirked, wiping my lip with the back of my hand, still catching my breath.
Trevor. Of all people.
And I just kissed him like I'd been waiting my whole damn life to do it.
Well... I guess I'm not bagging a woman tonight. 
"That was hot," Imelda said as I sat opposite her, the bass of the club thudding softly beneath our table.
Geeze. If it weren’t for her dare, I wouldn’t have dared to kiss Kuya Trevor back there but he insisted anyway, so that wouldn’t be a problem.
I bit the inside of my cheek, replaying it all again.
Wait… is he fine with kissing a boy?
“If it’s not for your fucking threat, I wouldn’t do that,” I snapped, rolling my eyes while sipping a martini. The glass was cold in my hand, but not cold enough to erase the warmth still lingering on my lips.
The taste of the alcohol wasn’t enough—I could still fucking taste his lips.
His tongue was so hot. He’s burning.
I shifted in my seat, crossing my legs restlessly. My fingers drummed the glass.
What was he even doing here, anyway? I thought he disliked this kind of place. And Troy said he doesn’t drink. What made him come here?
Basing from what he said earlier… “I never mentioned I don’t drink. I just said I can’t drink,” something like that.