Page 53 of Offside Angle

I close my eyes. The kiss on my forehead is nothing like the one we just shared. It’s softer. Careful. Meant to steady me instead of overwhelm me.

And it works. At least a little.

I don’t know what to say. Part of me wants to tell him to leave, while another part wants to pull him closer, and somewhere between the two I’m completely fucking lost. I’ve spent my entire life knowing exactly who I am and what I want, and in the span of one afternoon, Santi has managed to shake all of it loose.

I keep my eyes closed, my forehead still resting against him, and let out a shaky breath.

“I don’t know how not to,” I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Santi pulls back, his hands sliding from my face into my hair. He combs his fingers slowly through the strands, the repetitive motion gradually easing some of the tension wound through me.

“You don’t have to do anything right now, cariño,” he says quietly.

“I have Lena…” I say, the words coming out defensive even to my own ears. Because it’s true. Lena is here. Lena is home. Lena makes sense. She’s safe. She’s what I’ve always known. What I’ve always chosen.

Santi nods. “I know,” he says. “That’s why I’m not asking you to choose tonight.”

I look up at him, searching his face for any sign of frustration or impatience, but there’s none. He’s not pushing. He’s not demanding anything from me. He’s just… here. Sitting on the edge of my bed, his hands in my hair, giving me space I don’t even know what to do with.

I don’t know how to feel about that.

I let out a shaky breath and lean back against the headboard, my eyes drifting down to my lap. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit.

Santi’s hands stay in my hair, gentle and patient. “I know,” he says again. “That’s okay.”

A soft knock sounds at the bedroom door.

“You guys okay?” Lena asks from the other side, her voice gentle but slightly hesitant.

Santi immediately pulls back completely. He sits up straighter on the edge of the bed, putting a careful, respectable amount of space between us. The shift is instant and deliberate. And for some reason, that small distance hurts more than I expect it to.

Santi reaches over to the nightstand and starts opening the takeout containers with maddening casualness, apparently content to carry on as though the last few minutes never happened.

“Come in, Lena,” he calls calmly.

The door opens a second later and Lena steps inside, her eyes moving between the two of us. She takes in the scene—Santi sitting on the edge of the bed, the food now open on the nightstand, and me still half-propped against the headboard, visibly wrecked.

She doesn’t say anything right away. Guilt twists in my stomach. She has no idea what just happened in this room. She has no idea that less than a minute ago, Santi had his hands in my hair and his mouth on mine.

And I can still feel the ghost of it against my skin.

Santi, on the other hand, is completely composed. No trace of the man who had his tongue down my throat less than a minute ago, or who kissed me hard enough to tear through every neat little certainty I had about myself.

I don’t know how he does it.

Lena walks further into the room and leans against the dresser, crossing her arms loosely over her chest as she looks at us.

“Everything alright in here?” she asks again.

“Yeah…” I sigh, the word coming out heavier than I mean it to. I pat the spot on the bed beside me. “Come here, pretty girl.”

Lena’s smile softens. She walks over without hesitation and climbs onto the bed. The second she’s close enough, I pull her into my arms and bury my face in her hair, holding her tighter than I probably should. Her scent settles something in me immediately—familiar, comforting, tied to every part of my life that has always made sense.

For a few seconds, I breathe her in and try to quiet the chaos spinning inside my head.

From the corner of my eye, I catch Santi watching us. There’s no jealousy in his expression, no edge to it at all. If anything, the small smile tugging at his mouth is almost fond, carrying the unsettling sense that he understands something I haven’t figured out.

“Stinky…” Lena gasps suddenly, her voice muffled against my chest. “You’re squishing me.”