“Cole,” she whispers, voice trembling.
“Yeah?”
Her eyes flick down to my mouth again, then back up. “We should probably…”
“Yeah.”
Neither of us moves. I finally tear myself away, dragging a hand through my hair, chest rising and falling. “Fuck,” I mutter, voice rough.
She’s still leaning against the wall, hands braced on the railing, lips parted, chest heaving like she just ran a mile. The red on her mouth is smeared at the corner, and I want to fix it with my thumb, my tongue, anything.
But I can’t. Instead, I hit the button for her floor again. The doors start to slide shut between us.
“Don’t read into this,” I say quietly, forcing the words out even though they taste like ash. “It shouldn’t have happened.”
Her eyes widen like she’s been slapped, but she doesn’t say a word before the doors close.
I stand there for a second, heart pounding like I just lost a fight I didn’t even know I was in. Then I turn and walk out into the cold, the snow already covering my footprints before I make it to the truck.
CHAPTER 10
Hailey
Iroll over and instantly regret it because my lips still feel a little bruised and my body remembers exactly what it felt like to be pinned against an elevator wall by six-foot-two of very bad idea.
“Ughhh,” I groan into the pillow.
Last night rushes in fast. The bar. The laughing. The darts. The flirting. The way he looked at me… And then the elevator. God, that kiss.
It wasn’t even a politeoops, we accidentally brushed mouthskind of kiss. It was hungry. It wasI’ve been thinking about this nonstop. Even the way he so casually unzipped my coat like he owned the right to do that, like I was his and he was merely trying to get closer to me. And I let him. I melted against him, clung to him. I was all in.
And then… his words hit like a kick to the chest. “Don’t read into this. It shouldn’t have happened.”
I fling the blankets off like they’re to blame. “Well, merry freaking Christmas to me.”
I sit on the edge of the bed and squint at the red smear on the back of my hand. It’s my gloss from where I wiped it in the elevator. So yeah, not a dream. My mouth was, in fact, on Cole Bristol’s mouth. More than once.
For a solid thirty seconds I let myself fantasize about the version where this is fine. Where I text Maddie and say, “So don’t freak out, but your hot older brother and I kind of fell into each other and it was… a thing.” And she shrieks and says, “OH MY GOD. THIS IS PERFECT.” And we all spend Christmas together somewhere snowy and I get to keep my best friend and the man who kisses like that.
Because in that version, Maddie is thrilled that the two people she loves most are together. In that version, Cole doesn’t look like he just committed a felony as the elevator doors closed.
But the real version? The one where I saw his face after that second kiss, his jaw tight, eyes already avoiding mine, voice flat? That version is the one I have to live in.
He meant it. He was walking it back even as my lips were still tingling.
I flop backward on the bed, stare at the ceiling, and talk to the air. “Okay. Fine. It was just a stupid, hot, post-drinks kiss.” I point upward like I’m making a legal statement. “We are not pursuing anything. We are adults. We will move on. No one ever has to know.”
Because I can’t tell her. I can’t tell Maddie “Hey, remember how you made your brother my emergency contact? Well, surprise. I made out with him in an elevator like a horny teenager and now it’s fucking weird.” Not when he literally saiddon’t read into it. I’m not that girl. I’m not going to force a plotline on a man who slammed the door on it.
Still… my body hums remembering it. And my heart is traitorous enough to hope that maybe he just panicked and he’ll send me a groveling apology text later.
I drag a hand over my face. “Nope. We’re not doing that.” I sit up straighter. “He’s Maddie’s brother. He has history. He clearly has rules about this. You respect the boundary.”
I swing my legs off the bed and my toes hit the cold floor. My apartment looks extra bright this morning, like it’s trying its hardest to cheer me up. The gallery wall he hung for me catches the light. The bookshelf he fixed stands perfectly straight, smug as hell.
Of course it does. Of course he put his stupid, big man hand fingerprints all over my place so even in my home I can’t escape him.
“Whatever,” I mutter, pushing to my feet. “It was fun and dumb and now it’s over.”
