His lips met Caleb's, and this time, it wasn't a clumsy brush. It was longer. Deeper.
A French kiss, just as Aurora had demanded. Caleb didn't respond—he simply stood still like a statue, enduring it with clenched fists and a twisted face. Darren hated himself more with each passing second.
Then it ended. Darren pulled away first, breath shaky and jaw tight.
Caleb immediately wiped his mouth with both hands and spat to the side, face twisted in disgust.
"That was disgusting," he muttered, stepping back like Darren had just infected him with something.
Mason didn't say a word. He couldn't even look Darren in the eye. His gaze was glued to the floor, lips pressed tight, shame burning in the air between them.
Darren finally exploded, his voice shaking with fury and embarrassment. "I didn't want to do this, okay?! It wasn't me! It's the voice! He—he's making me!"
Silence fell for a second.
