The Almost Kiss

“Don’t walk away from me.”

I grabbed his arm before I could stop myself.

Blake spun back around so fast I almost lost my balance.

The hallway outside the press room was narrow and too bright. Cameras still flashed at the far end. Reporters lingered, pretending not to stare.

Goal right now?

Keep this quiet.

Keep this from blowing up into something bigger than it already is.

“You embarrassed me in there,” he said, voice low but sharp.

“I answered a question.”

“You answered it like I was nothing.”

My grip tightened on his sleeve. “I said we’re teammates.”

“You said we’re just teammates.”

The word just hung between us.

Heat rushed to my face.

“What did you want me to say?” I shot back. “Will we finish each other’s sentences? That we can read each other’s minds?”

“You didn’t have to downplay it.”

“I had to protect us.”

“There is no us.”

The lie tasted bitter on both sides.

Conflict sparked fast. Too fast.

A door slammed somewhere behind us. A producer walked past, eyes flicking over our tense bodies before hurrying away.

We were making a scene.

Again.

“You think acting cold will make them back off?” Blake demanded.

“It’s better than feeding them.”

“Feeding them?” He laughed without humor. “You think they didn’t see what happened out there?”

They almost fight on the bench.

The way we stood too close after the goal.

The way my hand lingered on his chest a second too long.

My pulse kicked harder.

“That’s exactly why we need distance,” I said.

He stepped closer instead.

“You’re scared,” he said.

“Of what?”

“Of wanting this again.”

His words hit too close.

“I don’t want this,” I snapped.

His eyes darkened. “Liar.”

The hallway felt smaller by the second.

I pushed at his chest. “Stop acting like you know what I feel.”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

He caught my wrist before I could pull away.

Not rough.

Just firm.

Electric.

Arguments exploded into physical closeness in a breath.

“You think I don’t see it?” he said, voice dropping. “The way you look at me when we’re on the ice?”

“That’s called focus.”

“It’s not just focus.”

My back hit the wall.

Not hard.

But enough.

He stepped in, caging me between his body and cold marble.

Every inch of space vanished.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

“This is a bad idea,” I whispered.

“Probably.”

His hand was still wrapped around my wrist.

Warm.

Steady.

Too steady.

“You can’t keep pretending you don’t feel it,” he said.

“I can try.”

“Why?”

“Because the last time we didn’t pretend, everything fell apart.”

His jaw tightened.

“That wasn’t just us.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “It hurt anyway.”

His grip loosened slightly, but he didn’t step back.

“Do you know what hurt me?” he asked quietly.

I swallowed. “What?”

“You acting like I meant nothing.”

The vulnerability caught me off guard.

“You didn’t mean nothing,” I said, softer now.

“Then why did you walk away like it was easy?”

“It wasn’t easy!”

My voice cracked.

We both froze.

Emotion rushed in where anger had been.

“I cried in a city where I didn’t know anyone,” I admitted. “I watched your highlights like an idiot at two in the morning. I hated you because it was easier than missing you.”

His breath hitched.

“I never stopped missing you,” he said.

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Silence crashed down.

We were inches apart.

I could feel the heat from his body.

The steady rise and fall of his chest.

“They’re going to tear us apart if we give them anything,” I whispered.

“Maybe I don’t care.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t survive losing you twice.”

The confession hung there.

Raw.

Unprotected.

His free hand came up slowly, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

My body reacted before my brain could.

Leaning in.

Just a little.

He noticed.

His eyes dropped to my mouth.

“They’re already talking,” he murmured. “Let them.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Maybe I do.”

My hands found his chest again.

Not to push him away.

Just… to feel him.

This was the breaking point.

Years of anger.

Years of tension.

All narrowing into this one breath.

“If we cross this line,” I said, voice barely there, “there’s no going back.”

“Good.”

His forehead touched mine.

Soft.

Intentional.

I closed my eyes.

For one second, the world outside that hallway disappeared.

No cameras.

No owner pulling strings.

No fans picking sides.

Just us.

His thumb traced slow circles on my wrist.

“You drive me insane,” he whispered.

“You don’t make it easy.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

I opened my eyes.

He was closer now.

Close enough that I felt his breath against my lips.

“They nearly kiss or do.”

Time slowed.

I didn’t think so.

I didn’t plan.

I just moved.

Our mouths brushed.

Light.

Barely there.

A spark more than a kiss.

But it was enough.

His hand slid to my waist, pulling me in fully this time.

And then

A camera shutter clicked.

Loud.

Sharp.

We jerked apart like we’d been burned.

At the end of the hallway, a reporter stood frozen, phone raised.

Oh no.

Immediate regret hit hard and fast.

Blake stepped in front of me instinctively.

“Delete that,” he demanded.

The reporter blinked. “It’s my job.”

“It’s harassment,” I shot back, heart pounding.

He lowered the phone slowly.

But the damage was done.

Because down the hall, another phone lifted.

And another.

Media scandal brewing in real time.

“Go,” Blake muttered to me. “Back entrance. Now.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll handle this.”

“You can’t handle the internet.”

A tight, humorless smile flickered across his face. “Watch me.”

Voices started rising.

Whispers spreading.

“Did they just?”

“Are they back together?”

“This is huge.”

My stomach dropped.

Years of careful distance.

Gone in one reckless second.

Blake’s hand brushed mine quickly.

“Don’t say anything yet,” he said under his breath.

“Blake”

“Trust me.”

Trust.

The word felt heavy.

Fragile.

I stepped back.

Then another step.

Our eyes locked one last time before I turned and walked down the opposite corridor.

My lips still tingled.

My heart is still racing.

Behind me, the noise grew louder.

Questions firing.

Names shouted.

By the time I reached the exit, my phone was already vibrating nonstop.

Notifications flooding in.

Clips.

Photos.

Slow-motion replays.

The angle made it look like more than a brush.

It looked like a full kiss.

Trending worldwide.

I leaned against the cold brick wall outside, breath shaky.

Snow started falling lightly around me.

Inside, Blake was still facing the storm.

For a split second, I let myself remember how it felt.

His hand o

n my waist.

His mouth was almost on mine.

Then reality crashed back in.

If that photo goes viral

If the owner sees it

If the league thinks we’re a distraction again

This won’t just be gossip.

It’ll be war.

And the worst part?

When I touched my lips, I couldn’t even tell myself it was a mistake.

The real question wasn’t whether we kissed.

It was whether we’d survive what comes next.