7

Viana's pov

I couldn’t believe I had actually wanted to kiss Alvin. Me. Kissing Alvin. The thought alone made my skin burn and my brain short-circuit. What was wrong with me. Maybe I hit my head somewhere this week. Maybe I was sleep deprived. Maybe I had finally lost the last pieces of my sanity. Because nothing else explained the weird flutter in my stomach when he looked at me, or how my breath caught when his face got dangerously close to mine.

He’s your soon-to-be stepbrother, Viana. And the biggest headache you’ve ever met.

I groaned into my pillow before tossing it across the room. My heart had been racing on and off all day from replaying everything. The tension. The almost. The way he looked at me like he wanted to say something and didn’t. I needed a distraction. Something cold to drink. A cup of juice. Something simple and normal that didn’t involve the memory of Alvin’s hands or his eyes or… him in general.

I slipped on a hoodie and stepped into the hallway. It was quiet, warm with the soft evening lights. He should’ve still been outside or in the garage after hockey practice. Perfect. If I moved fast enough, I could avoid him completely.

I headed for the stairs, moving quickly but quietly. My mind was all over the place and maybe that was why I didn’t notice my foot landing wrong on the edge of a step. It slipped out from under me before I even realized what was happening.

I let out a strangled scream, already preparing myself to hit the stairs chest-first and roll the rest of the way down.

But the impact never came.

Instead, something strong and warm wrapped itself around my waist and yanked me backward with ridiculous ease. My breath caught. My heart stopped. I froze, suspended between falling and being held, too stunned to process anything.

When I forced my eyes open, he was right there.

Alvin.

Still slightly out of breath from practice, hair damp and messy, hoodie unzipped over a sweaty shirt, hockey bag slung behind him. And somehow he still managed to catch me like he had been waiting on that exact step for me to fall.

“So clumsy,” he said quietly, voice low and slightly rough from exertion.

He still wasn’t letting go. His grip was solid, steady, fingers pressing into my waist like he was trying to keep me from slipping again.

“I—I’m fine,” I whispered, even though my pulse was racing wildly.

His hold didn’t ease. If anything, he pulled me a little closer to stabilize me fully on the step. His face was close enough that I could see the beads of sweat on his jaw and the small cut near his eyebrow from practice i presume. He smelled like cold air and peppermint gum and sweat lots of sweat.

“Thank you,” I breathed, my voice embarrassingly small. “That would’ve ended badly if you hadn’t caught me.”

Something shifted in his gaze as if he was examining if I was alright.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured. “But you should slow down. You move like you’re running from a crime scene.”

I scowled. “I wasn’t running.”

“You were.”

“I was not.”

“You were,” he said again, completely convinced of his own version of reality.

Before I could argue more, footsteps echoed behind us.

“Viana? Alvin?” my mom called out, sounding alarmed. She rounded the corner and froze, eyes widening. “What on earth happened here?”

Of course. Because the universe had no mercy.

I stepped away from Alvin so fast I nearly tripped again, earning myself a sharp look from him.

“I almost fell,” I explained quickly. “My foot slipped and he… caught me.”

My mom rushed up the stairs, placing a hand on my arm. “You almost fell down these stairs? Oh my goodness, honey, be careful. These steps are dangerous when you’re distracted.”

I nodded, cheeks burning. “I know. I wasn’t looking properly.”

Her attention shifted to Alvin, her expression softening instantly. “Thank you, sweetheart. You arrived just in time.”

He adjusted his hockey bag and shrugged lightly. “I just walked in. She was literally mid-fall.”

My mom let out a breath of relief. “Still. Thank you.”

“It’s fine,” he said, looking at her but glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “Anyone would’ve done it.”

No. Not everyone would react that fast, but okay.

He paused, looking directly at me again. “You good?”

The question hit harder than I expected. He wasn’t teasing this time. He wasn’t smirking. It wasn’t a joke. He genuinely wanted to know if I was alright.

“I’m fine,” I said softly. “Really.”

He studied me for a second longer, as if checking for injuries, then nodded.

“Alright.” He pushed the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder. “I’m going upstairs.”

He walked past me, moving up the remaining steps with steady, confident strides. He paused briefly on the landing, turning his head just enough to make sure I wasn’t about to slip again, then disappeared down the hallway.

The moment he was out of sight, my mom exhaled a tired breath and turned toward me.

“Are you absolutely sure you’re okay?” she asked again. “He caught you hard. Did your back twist?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” I said, hiding my face behind my hands. “Please don’t make this dramatic.”

“I’m not,” she insisted, though her tone was suspiciously interested. “It’s just… the way he was holding you—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” I warned.

She raised her brows, but thankfully kept whatever thought she had to herself. I slipped past her toward the kitchen, desperate for cold juice and fresh embarrassment-free air.

The moment I entered the kitchen, the whole fall replayed in my mind again. His arms around me. His voice close to my ear. The intensity in his eyes. The way he didn’t let go until he was absolutely sure I was steady.

And the worst part was… my heart reacted more than it should have.

I leaned against the counter, covering my face again.