Chapter 12 - Malachi's POV

Friday, 10:25 PM — Beach Bonfire

The butterfly clips were still in his hair.

There were five of them. Bright purple, neon green, two sparkly pink ones, and one that looked like it had glitter inside it, swirling every time he moved his head. He looked like a cracked-out Lisa Frank character and it was not helping his street cred.

"Do not take them out," Freya whispered beside him. "I will publicly break up with you."

Malachi snorted and shot her a warning glance. "Freya."

She grinned. "What? It's a great threat."

"No one here is supposed to know we're dating."

"Exactly. That's what makes the threat so effective."

He tried not to laugh. God, she was lucky she was hot.

Across the bonfire, Chandler had just finished dare-styling Julian's eyebrows with a neon-pink lip liner, and Julian looked like he was genuinely questioning his life choices. MK was filming the whole thing with zero remorse, cackling from the sand.

This game was spiraling. It wasn't just the dares anymore—it was the delirium that came with being together for hours and hours, hyped up on sugar and no responsibilities. Everyone was loopy, tired, too comfortable. That was the danger zone.

The bottle was spinning again.

It stopped in front of him.

"Bro, you already went," MK said.

"I've accepted my fate," Malachi replied solemnly.

"Truth or dare?"

Malachi glanced at the flames, then at Freya, then at Julian—who still looked thoughtful after that half-confession earlier. A chill crept up Malachi's spine, subtle but firm. The safest option? Double down.

"Dare," he said.

"Ohh," Chandler said, rubbing her hands together. "I have one."

"God help me."

"I dare you to—" she paused, eyes scanning the group. "—give a romantic serenade to the person to your left."

He turned to look.

Freya.

She gave him an innocent blink. "Don't hold back."

"Oh my god," Sway gasped.

"Noooo way," MK grinned. "This is going to be the best thing I've ever seen."

Malachi gave a long-suffering sigh. "I hate it here."

"You love it here," Meg teased.

He stood, brushing sand off his jeans, and pointed dramatically at Freya. "You brought this upon yourself."

She just smirked. "I accept full responsibility."

Malachi cleared his throat. "For tonight's performance, I will be interpreting the timeless emotions of pure, aching love through the lyrical stylings of... Justin Bieber."

The entire circle screamed.

"Not Baby!" Sway shouted.

"I swear if you do the falsetto—" Julian started.

"Prepare yourselves," Malachi warned solemnly.

He launched into it with maximum drama. Over-the-top hand motions. Melodramatic eye contact. Knees in the sand, head tilted toward the moon like he was singing to the heavens. The whole thing was so stupid, so loud, that it took a full minute for the group to recover from the laughter.

Freya was giggling uncontrollably, face flushed, but there was something in her eyes that only he could see—softness, affection, that tiny glow that always made him feel seen.

And just for a second... he forgot they were supposed to be pretending.

"OKAY!" MK yelled. "Best performance of the night. No contest."

"Put him on The Voice," Chandler said, pretending to wipe a tear.

Malachi flopped down in the sand again, heart still thumping a little too fast. That had been a lot of emotion, even as a joke.

The bottle was spinning again.

Freya.

He exhaled slowly.

"Truth," she said, voice sweet as sugar.

Sway didn't even hesitate. "Describe your dream first kiss in detail."

Malachi nearly choked on air.

Freya barely blinked. "Okay," she said, crossing her legs and leaning into the firelight like she was telling a campfire story. "It's sunset. I'm in costume. Maybe on set. It's the end of a shoot day. Everything's quiet. We're alone. He leans in slow, like he's asking permission even though he doesn't have to. And it's just—peace. No tension. No secrets. Just us."

No one said a word.

She gave a light laugh. "That too romantic?"

"Literally what movie are you living in?" Kylee said with a dramatic sigh.

"It was giving Nicholas Sparks," Meg said. "But like... the good kind."

Milo added, "That man's going to need a ring and a fan club after a kiss like that."

The group moved on. The bottle spun. Someone else was dared to do a dramatic reading of their last three text messages. MK ended up face-deep in a bucket of ice water trying to rescue a phone someone pretended to drop. The ridiculousness kept building.

But Malachi was still thinking about her answer.

It had been a lie—but only technically.

Because they had kissed. Plenty of times. And some of them had been ridiculous and hilarious and fast-paced and stolen. But their first kiss?

It had been exactly like she described.

Quiet. Soft. A moment that felt like it didn't belong to the world.

She remembered it. That was... dangerous.

"Earth to Malachi," Milo said, tossing a marshmallow at him.

He blinked. "Huh?"

"You were spacing. Are the butterfly clips cutting off your brain circulation?"

Malachi flicked the marshmallow back at him. "Jealous of the look?"

Milo looked at him weirdly—like he was searching for something. Malachi straightened unconsciously.

"Not at all," Milo said smoothly. "I'm thinking of adopting it."

The conversation shifted. Meg started a story about the time they all nearly got stranded on the tour bus in Utah, and the entire group fell into nostalgia territory.

Malachi leaned back, resting his hands in the sand, glancing at Freya just once.

She wasn't looking at him.

But she was smiling.

And that was almost worse.

Because no one else saw it.

But he knew it was for him.