CHAPTER ONE:KISS

Evan’s POV;

Blake didn’t even blink when he said it.

“That kiss meant nothing. You should forget it ever happened.”

Just like that.

No hesitation. No emotion. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment in his stupidly gorgeous hazel eyes.

I stood there, blinking back the sting behind my eyelids and the what-the-hell rising in my chest.

He just looked at me like I was just another file on his desk. Just another item to check off.

I managed a stiff nod. “Right. Nothing. Got it.”

Except it wasn’t nothing. It was everything.

I kissed that man five days earlier in the bathroom of an airport. So excuse me for feeling a little hurt.

Let’s back up a little….

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a good week. No, a great one. I was heading back home to New York, job offer in hand. 

After six long months of crashing in my Aunt Meredith’s guest room, sending out endless job applications and panic refreshing my inbox for interview callbacks, I’d finally landed something real. 

A full-time junior associate position at Everett & Rowe, a legit accounting firm in Midtown. With desks and break rooms that had coffee machines.

It felt like winning the lottery. A very nerdy lottery.

Basically, my dream.

So there I was, boarding pass in hand, backpack on one shoulder, and suitcase in the other like every other proud, employed adult with a mission. 

I had already missed my initial flight but I wasn’t going to let it bother me. I even had my best friend, Hailey, waiting to pick me up from the airport. Today really was a great day.

That is, until I tripped.

Over a suitcase.

A very expensive looking suitcase.

My foot caught on the suitcase. I stumbled, flailed, and narrowly avoided a full dramatic faceplant by grabbing a nearby chair. 

Shame colored my cheeks red. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“No harm done,” came a voice, deep and smooth with a slightly polished edge.

My neck snapped up immediately.

The man attached to the suitcase was tall. Like really tall. Broad-shouldered, with hazel eyes and a jawline that could’ve sliced through glass. His dark brown hair was styled so well it should’ve had its own P*******t.

His suit? Crisp.

And this quiet confidence and intelligent eyes that made him look like he belonged on a Wall Street billboard. 

I pulled my mouth shut and tried to act unaffected while dusting my bright sweatsuit that was a sharp contrast to his professional appearance.

“ Your suitcase nearly assassinated me,” I said before I could stop myself.

 “The suitcase is more dangerous than it looks.” The corners of his mouth quirking into a half-smile. 

“It’s a landmine” I mutter, going to sit in one of the chairs while I wait for my flight.

“It’s a suitcase”. He responded dryly, taking a seat one chair away from me. “I apologize.”

“Oh,” I said, blinking.

What? What? What?

He let out a soft chuckle, the kind you earn, not the kind people give out of politeness. Like I’d surprised him.

I told myself to breathe.

I’m a sucker for a guy who laughs with his eyes. 

I adjusted my curls, already heat-flushed. “So… uh, are you headed to New York too?”

“Yes. Missed my flight though. I’m stuck for another hour.”

“Same,” I said. “It’s like the airport gods just love watching us suffer.”

A beat of silence. Then I asked the question that had been chewing at me since I’d heard his voice: “Where are you from?”

“Um… Lake Forest, Illinois” he said. 

I let out a low whistle before I could stop myself. “Oof. Rich.”

He raised a brow, amused. “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly poor, either,” I muttered, giving his watch a quick glance. I didn’t know the brand, but I knew enough to know I couldn’t afford it in any lifetime.

He chuckled again. “And you?”

“Born and raised in Astoria, Queens.” I said proudly. 

We ended up talking about the noise in New York, and I, of course, leapt to its defense like it was a national treasure.

“New York isn’t loud, it’s alive,” I argued. “I’d take honking horns and shouting cabbies over Chicago’s fake-nice silence any day.”

“Very um…. passionate.” The hot stranger replied slowly.

I kept on going. “I love New York. Even the noise. Especially the noise. People always complain about it being loud, but honestly? It’s just full of life. I mean, would you rather hear nothing? Silence is creepy.”

He smiled again, but it was softer this time. Less amused. More… intrigued?

“I guess.” He said softly.

That’s when the shift happened. That loaded silence where neither of us said anything.The moment when a harmless conversation turns into something more. The air felt heavier. His eyes stayed on mine a second too long. I looked away first, I felt my pulse quicken.

I bailed before I could do something stupid.

“I’m, uh…gonna hit the bathroom,” I mumbled.

“I’ll go get some coffee,” he replied.

I turned and practically ran to the restroom, splashing cold water on my face like I was in a movie and gave myself a mirror pep talk. 

“Get it together, Evan,” I whispered at my reflection. “You’re not falling for a random older Greek god in an airport, You’re not that gay.”

(Okay, I am. But still.)

And then the door opened.

And he walked in.

So much for getting it together.

He looked surprised. “Oh. You again.”

I blinked. “This is a men’s room, right?”

“I swear I’m not following you,” he said, holding a stack of paper towels. “Some guy spilled coffee on me. I needed to clean up.”

I just stared at him, half-dazzled and half-short-circuiting.

“So much for coffee,” I said, trying to sound normal. I watched him clean up his shirt, the brown stain spreading faintly. 

His hands were steady, but his voice was just a little too thick with something.

He stared at me through the mirror before turning around to actually look at me. He looked at me like he was reading me.

The tension heightened.

I didn’t mean to. I didn’t plan it.

I couldn’t help it.

I stepped forward.

And kissed him.

Just like that.

No warning. No overthinking. I just kissed him.

He kissed me back.

Hard.

He held me tight, one hand on my back, the other at my waist. His hands gripped my waist like he needed something to hold onto, and I swear I melted right there.

I had to stand on tiptoes to reach him properly, and even then he tilted his head just enough to deepen it. He was warm, firm, his mouth insistent. My fingers curled into his coat. My head spun. 

His lips were soft, but his kiss was firm. Intense. Desperate.

We kept going. 

We only broke apart when our boarding call blared overhead.

We left the bathroom red-faced and breathless.