It was nearly midnight when Mika knocked on Ren's door again, a playful glint in her eyes and her phone in hand.
"Still up?"
Ren nodded, stepping aside to let her in. She wore a loose, cropped tee and shorts, casual but effortlessly provocative. The kind of look that said she wasn't trying too hard—but knew exactly what she was doing.
"I thought we could do a few more shots," she said, holding up her phone. "I had some new ideas. Lighting's different at night. Moodier."
Ren cleared his throat. "Sure."
She walked past him into the room, set her phone down, and pulled out another shirt from a bag she'd brought. "Try this one on. More fitted. Less fabric. Trust me."
Minutes later, he stood in the dim glow of his bedside lamp, the new shirt clinging to his chest. Mika positioned him by the wall, holding the phone up and angling for the perfect shot.
"Chin down. Tilt to the right a little. Yeah. That's it."
She snapped a few pictures, then stepped closer. Too close.
"Let me just…" Her hands reached up, brushing the collar, smoothing the fabric over his shoulders. Her fingers lingered.
Ren swallowed hard. The air between them thickened.
Mika looked up into his eyes. "You know, this one really brings out your shape."
He held her gaze. Something shifted.
Ren leaned in before he could stop himself.
Their lips met—tentative at first, then electric. Mika froze for a heartbeat, then kissed him back with startling intensity. Her arms slipped around his neck, and his hands found her waist.
They pulled apart just enough to look at each other.
"I didn't mean to—" Ren began, but Mika silenced him with another kiss, deeper this time. It wasn't a mistake. It was mutual.
Her fingers tangled in his hair. He pressed her gently against the wall, the phone forgotten, the photo session dissolved into something far more dangerous.
Outside, the house was silent. His mother was deep asleep. At this moment, nothing else existed.
Mika's voice broke through the haze, husky and low. "You're really not a kid anymore."
Ren looked into her eyes. "And you're not just my mom's friend."
A soft laugh escaped her lips, then she pulled him back into another kiss. Longer. Slower. The kind that promised this was just the beginning.
That night, nothing went further. But everything changed.
Mika slipped out of his room before dawn, careful not to make a sound. But the scent of her perfume lingered on his skin, and his lips still tingled with the memory of hers.
Ren lay awake, heart pounding, staring at the ceiling.
He had kissed Mika. And she had kissed him back.
Something had started—illicit, thrilling, impossible to ignore.
And he wanted more.
The next morning, Mika greeted him with a smirk and a casual, "Morning, model boy," as if nothing had happened.
But when their eyes met across the kitchen, something unspoken passed between them. A secret.
The first of many.
Later that afternoon, Ren found himself in his room again, the events of last night replaying vividly in his mind. He touched his lips absentmindedly, still able to feel hers. It wasn't just about the kiss—it was about what it had awakened in him.
He walked to the mirror, studying himself. There was something different in his eyes now. Confidence? Desire? A pull toward the unknown? Whatever it was, it thrilled him. He wasn't the boy everyone had seen him as—not anymore.
Downstairs, he could hear Mika chatting with his mother, laughing like nothing had happened. Ren's heart raced. It was surreal. How could she act so normal after that kiss?
He went downstairs casually, pretending to grab water from the fridge. Mika turned to him with that same smirk.
"Sleep well?" she asked, eyes glinting.
Ren held her gaze for a beat too long before replying, "Eventually."
Their eyes locked again. His mom turned away to tend to the kettle, completely oblivious.
And just like that, Ren understood something: the danger wasn't just in the kiss. It was in keeping the secret alive.
He wasn't sure what would happen next—but he was certain he wanted to find out.
The playboy in him had just been born.
That evening, as the sun dipped low, casting golden shadows through the living room blinds, Ren caught himself replaying Mika's laugh in his head. The way she had melted into his kiss. The soft sigh she made when their lips had parted. Every tiny detail kept rushing back to him like waves he couldn't stop.
He opened his phone, thumb hovering over her contact. She had saved her number as "Mika."
He didn't text her.
He just stared at her name, heart pounding again.
His door creaked open.
Mika peeked in—just her face at first, eyes searching. When she saw he was alone, she stepped inside, shutting the door gently behind her.
"I forgot something earlier," she said softly, holding up a hair clip. She walked across the room, hips swaying, with that same calm confidence.
Ren stood still, unsure of what to say, breath stuck in his throat.
She leaned in just a little too close while grabbing the clip off his desk. Her breath was warm on his neck.
"Don't overthink it," she whispered, lips brushing just above his collarbone. "We're just having fun… right?"
He nodded slowly, eyes fixed on hers.
But fun had never felt so dangerously addictive.