His breath caught. “Étienne?—”
“I’ve been trying to figure out how to live in this house with you while pushing it all down.”
“I’ve been doing the same thing,” he said quietly. “For three years. Thinking you were straight. Thinking I’d never—” He stopped, swallowed hard. “When you almost kissed me, I thought I’d imagined it. Or that you’d gotten caught up in the moment and didn’t mean it. And when you pulledaway and acted like nothing happened, I thought that confirmed it.”
“I pulled away because I was terrified,” I said. “Because I didn’t understand what I was feeling yet. I thought I was losing my mind, wanting to kiss my best friend.”
“You weren’t losing your mind.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I wanted you to kiss me. I’ve wanted you to kiss me for so long.”
The air between us felt electric. Charged with everything we’d been holding back.
“I’m scared,” I admitted. “Of what this means. Of everything that could go wrong.”
“Me too.” He finally turned to face me fully. “I’ve been hiding who I am for seventeen years. My parents would disown me if they knew. The team—Boucher’s already suspicious.”
“Yeah, he said at practice that it’s weird how close we are. It sounded like a threat.”
“I’m not surprised.” Marco was quiet for a moment, then continued. “And you—you just figured out you’re bi. This is all new for you. You might change your mind. Might decide this isn’t what you want.”
“I won’t.” I said it with absolute certainty. “I don’t know much right now. Don’t know how to do this, how to be this. But I know I want you… us.”
“Us,” he repeated, like he was testing the word.
“If you want that too.”
“I do.” He reached out, his hand trembling, and touched my face. Just his fingertips against my jaw, but I felt it everywhere. “God, I do. But Étienne, you need to be sure. Because I can’t… if we do this and it’s too complicated, I couldn’t survive that. I’d rather keep hiding than lose you entirely.”
I turned my head, pressed my lips to his palm, and he shuddered.
“I’m sure,” I said. “I’m terrified, but I’m sure.”
“Okay.” He was leaning closer, or maybe I was leaning closer. Maybe we both were. “Okay.”
This time, when the distance between us disappeared, when our lips met, neither of us pulled away.
The kiss was tentative at first. Soft. Testing. His lips barely brushed mine, warm and uncertain. Like we were both afraid it might not be real, might disappear if we pushed too hard.
But then his hand slid into my hair, fingers threading through and gripping gently, and mine found his waist, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, mouths opening, and everything else fell away.
And it was nothing like I’d imagined. Better. More intense. More right.
He tasted like mint toothpaste and something else that was uniquely him, warm and slightly sweet, that made me want to chase it, to memorize it. His beard was soft against my skin, the gentle brush of it sending sparks down my spine. The small sound he made when I pulled him closer—half gasp, half moan—went straight through me, settling low in my gut.
My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. Heat spread through my chest, down my arms, everywhere we were touching. His other hand found my jaw, his callused thumb stroking my cheekbone with a tenderness that made my breath catch. I could feel him trembling, or maybe that was me, or maybe it was both of us overwhelmed by the weight of what this meant.
This was what I’d been missing. What I’d been wanting without knowing I wanted it. Not just kissingsomeone, butkissinghim. Marco. My best friend. The person who understood me better than anyone.
We broke apart eventually, both breathing hard, chests heaving. His forehead rested against mine, his eyes closed, his breath warm against my lips. I could feel his taut muscles where my hand still pressed against his waist—hard planes and rigid strength, nothing like the soft curves of the women I’d been with before.
Neither of us moved, neither of us spoke, both of us just existing in this moment where everything had changed and nothing could ever go back.
“We just kissed,” he said, his voice unsteady.
“Yeah.”
“We’re really doing this.”
“Yeah.” I pulled back enough to see his face. “Are you okay?”
