Brandon's POV
The second Chloe disappeared into the corner, the air changed.
My mum didn't move. Not one inch.
Her eyes stayed glued to me—unblinking, unreadable, like she wasn't sure whether to scold me or dissect me. Honestly… I wasn't sure either.
My heart was still racing from the kiss, the best and worst-timed moment of my entire life. My lips still tingled with her taste. My mind still replayed the feel of her breath against my cheek, her fingers tightening at my neck—and I would've stayed high on that for hours if my mother hadn't walked in like the universe's sharpest slap.
But here we were.
She was still staring.
I forced myself to swallow. "Mum…?"
Her voice came out quietly, too quiet.
"Brandon," she said, "can you explain to me what is going on here?"
I rubbed my palms on my jeans. "Mum, I think you saw it yourself. I don't have to spell it out."
A faint smile tugged at her lips—something between disbelief and irritation.
