The annual campus festival was in full swing. Lights strung up between trees cast a warm glow over the grounds, and the air was filled with the mingling sounds of laughter, music, and the tantalizing aroma of street food. I had come with a group of friends, but somehow, I’d gotten separated from them in the crowd.

That’s when I saw him.

He was standing near the Ferris wheel, a cotton candy stick in one hand and a lazy, irresistible grin on his face. I recognized him from my sociology class—one of those guys who always sat in the back, scribbling in his notebook but never saying much.

Our eyes met, and he raised an eyebrow, as if surprised to see me here. “Lost?” he asked when I approached.

“Not really,” I replied, trying to sound casual. “But I might’ve lost my friends in the crowd.”

“Lucky me, then,” he said, his grin widening. “Guess I’ve got you all to myself.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the smile from creeping onto my face. “Big talk for someone eating cotton candy alone.”

He laughed, holding out the stick. “Want some?”

I hesitated but took a piece, the sticky sweetness melting on my tongue. “Thanks.”

“Wanna walk around?” he asked, tossing the empty stick into a nearby trash can.

Before I could answer, he grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the rows of brightly lit booths. His touch was warm, his fingers lacing easily with mine as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

We spent the next hour wandering through the festival, playing games and teasing each other over who was better at ring toss (it was him, though I’d never admit it). But the real fun began when we found the haunted house.

“Scared?” he teased as we stood in line.

“Of fake ghosts? Please,” I shot back.

But the moment we stepped inside, the darkness and sudden jump scares had me gripping his arm tightly. He didn’t seem to mind, though. If anything, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”

I wasn’t sure if it was the thrill of the haunted house or the way his hand rested on my lower back, guiding me through, but my heart was racing.

When we finally stumbled out into the cool night air, we were both laughing, the tension from the scares melting into something else entirely.

“You okay?” he asked, his hand still on my back.

“Yeah,” I said, breathless.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while now.”

“Yeah?” I asked, my cheeks flushing.

“Yeah,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re kind of hard to ignore.”

I barely had time to process his words before his lips were on mine. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and utterly electrifying. The chaos of the festival faded into the background, leaving just us under the glow of the string lights.

When we finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Wanna get on the Ferris wheel?” he asked, his voice low.

“Only if you promise not to kiss me at the top,” I teased, though my smile betrayed me.

“No promises,” he replied, taking my hand again.

And as we climbed into the Ferris wheel car, I couldn’t help but think that getting “lost” at the festival might’ve been the best thing to happen all night.