Chapter 7 – Almost Kiss

Chapter 7 – Almost Kiss

Dante

The night blurred into fragments—cups being passed around, chants for another round of beer pong, someone dancing on a table before it inevitably collapsed. My teammates thrived in this chaos. I used to, too. But tonight, all I kept doing was checking over my shoulder for Eli.

He was perched on the edge of the worn-out couch, cup still half-full, legs drawn close like the floor might swallow him whole. His curls had gone wilder in the heat, sticking to his forehead, his shirt rumpled from being jostled in the crowd. He looked like he was counting the minutes until I said we could leave.

I should’ve let him. Should’ve told him to go back to his books and his quiet corner of the world. Instead, I made my way over, weaving through bodies like I was pulled by something I didn’t want to name.

“You good?” I asked, leaning down so he could hear me.

He looked up, startled. His eyes—stormy gray, restless—searched mine for a beat too long. “I think this is… not really my scene.”

“Figured,” I said, smirking. “But you’re surviving.”

He gave me this look, sharp and disbelieving, like he couldn’t decide if I was mocking or encouraging him. Maybe it was both.

Someone bumped into me, and instinctively, I braced a hand against the back of the couch—close, too close. My arm brushed his shoulder, and suddenly the room felt smaller, the music dimmer.

I should’ve moved. But I didn’t.

Eli

I could feel him everywhere. His arm, solid and warm, bracketing me in. The faint smell of his cologne—something sharp, clean, layered over sweat and beer. The party noise fell away, muffled like we’d been pulled under water.

My pulse betrayed me, beating hard against my throat. It was ridiculous. This was Dante Cruz—the loud, cocky athlete who lived to annoy me. And yet, sitting this close, I couldn’t stop the flood of heat crawling up my neck.

He was smirking again, that lazy, infuriating expression that always made me want to snap at him. Except this time, his eyes weren’t laughing. They lingered, unreadable, heavy with something I couldn’t name.

The crowd pushed closer, laughter echoing. His hand shifted on the couch, brushing my side. Not intentional. Maybe. But it sent a shiver down my spine.

I should’ve stood, should’ve created distance. Instead, I tipped my head up. Just a fraction.

And he leaned down.

The world tilted. My breath hitched. His mouth hovered—close enough I could feel the ghost of his breath, the promise of heat. My thoughts scattered like pages in a storm.

For one reckless second, I wanted him to close the distance.

Dante

What the hell was I doing?

I’d been close to people before—girls at parties, hookups I didn’t care enough to remember. This wasn’t that. This was my quiet, infuriating, too-smart-for-his-own-good roommate. This was dangerous.

But I couldn’t pull back. Not when his eyes flicked to my mouth. Not when his breath caught like he was waiting.

The urge was magnetic, relentless. Just a tilt forward, and I’d know.

Then—

Someone crashed into the couch. Beer sloshed over the rim of a cup, splattering Eli’s sleeve. He jerked back, startled, breaking the spell. The noise of the party slammed back into focus, laughter and shouting filling the gap between us.

I straightened fast, covering with a laugh that sounded too forced. “Careful, Summers. You almost looked like you were having fun.”

His cheeks flushed, though whether from the beer or… that moment, I didn’t know. He grabbed a napkin, avoiding my gaze.

Almost.

The word clung to me the rest of the night. Almost kissed him. Almost crossed a line I couldn’t uncross.

Almost.

And God, it was going to ruin me.