The first time Joe Keery kissed you in public, it was purely to ruin your night.
You’d been ignoring him for almost two weeks, which was the longest either of you had gone without speaking since this whole disaster started. Two weeks of unanswered texts. Two weeks of pretending you didn’t notice when his name appeared on your phone at 2:13 a.m. Two weeks of trying to remember who you were before he made your nervous system revolve around him.
Until you showed up at some crowded house party in a tiny black dress, laughing too hard at something another guy whispered in your ear.
You didn’t even see Joe at first.
There was always this awful shift in the air whenever he walked into a room. Like your body recognized him before your brain did. Suddenly your chest tightened. Suddenly you couldn’t breathe correctly. Suddenly every instinct in you started screaming.
Too bad you never listened.
“Having fun?” he asked from behind you.
You turned around slowly, already angry at how badly your heart reacted to seeing him.
Messy curls shoved under a random Boston cap. Rings on his fingers. That lazy, unreadable expression like he hadn’t spent the past fourteen days destroying your sanity.
“Thought you died,” you said flatly.
His mouth twitched. “You would’ve posted about it if I did.”
The guy next to you awkwardly muttered something and disappeared almost immediately, which only made Joe smile wider.
God, you hated when he looked pleased with himself.
“You ignored me,” he said.
That was the thing about Joe. Everyone else thought he was easygoing. Funny. Charming in that careless way people trusted instantly. Nobody noticed how badly he needed control. Nobody noticed how mean he got when he felt unwanted.
But you noticed everything.
“At three in the morning.”
You laughed once under your breath because he wasn’t wrong. Most nights you stayed awake staring at your ceiling anyway, half-hoping he’d appear outside your window with bloodshot eyes and another apology he didn’t know how to say properly.
“You look pretty,” he murmured, and your stomach betrayed you immediately.
Because that voice, low and rough and honest when he was tired, was dangerous. It was the version of him that made you forget every horrible thing he’d ever done.
You crossed your arms. “What do you want?”
His eyes flicked toward the crowd around you before landing back on your face.
“You talking to him was annoying me.”
Just jealousy wrapped in cruelty.
“You don’t get to disappear for weeks and suddenly act possessive.”
Joe looked down at you for a second with this unreadable expression. Tired. Angry. Starving.
Then he smiled again, but it looked painful this time.
“Possessive?” he repeated softly. “That what you think this is?”
Before you could answer, he grabbed your jaw gently and kissed you.
You kissed him back immediately.
The room around you blurred into noise. His hand slid against your neck, warm and familiar, and suddenly you remembered every reason you could never leave him completely. Joe kissed like he was trying to consume people. Like affection and violence came from the exact same place inside him.
When he finally pulled away, your breathing was uneven.
“You’re such an asshole,” you whispered.
His thumb brushed your cheek almost tenderly.
And that should’ve been enough. That should’ve been the moment you walked away for good.
Instead he leaned down until his forehead rested against yours and said quietly:
It was the tiny moments when he let you see the scared version underneath everything else.
Because suddenly he wasn’t the boy who disappeared without explanation or flirted with other girls just to make himself feel less attached to you.
Exhausted. Lonely. Looking at you like he wanted something he didn’t know how to ask for.
And every single time he looked at you like that, you forgave him before he even apologized.
Which was exactly why he kept breaking your heart.
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