Nate
The drive to Emma's place is quiet, but it's not the uncomfortable kind. It's the kind that lingers between two people who are still figuring each other out. The streetlights cast long shadows over the road as I pull up in front of her house, a modest little place with a porch light flickering faintly.
Emma shifts in her seat, turning to face me. "Thanks for driving me home."
I glance at her, one hand still on the steering wheel. "No problem. I wasn't about to let you walk back alone."
She smiles, and for some reason, that simple expression makes my chest feel warmer than it should. "Still, I appreciate it," she says softly.
For a moment, she just sits there, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie like she's debating something. Then, before I can process what's happening, she leans in and presses a soft kiss to my cheek.
It's quick, barely a brush of warmth, but my brain short-circuits anyway.
"Goodnight, Nate," she murmurs as she opens the door and steps out.
I blink. "Uh—yeah. Goodnight."
She disappears inside, leaving me sitting there like an idiot, one hand still frozen where she kissed me.
What the hell just happened?
The next morning, I wake up way earlier than I should, Emma still lingering in my mind. The kiss wasn't even a real kiss, but it felt like something.
Jaxon notices the second I step into the locker room.
"You look weird," he says, eyeing me suspiciously as he tapes up his stick.
"Thanks," I mutter, dropping onto the bench to lace up my skates.
"No, I mean, like, weirder than usual."
I roll my eyes. "Appreciate it, man."
Jaxon narrows his eyes. "Wait." A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. "This is about Emma, isn't it?"
I don't answer.
He lets out a low whistle. "Damn. What did she do? Hug you? Compliment your hair?"
I glare. "Forget it."
He chuckles, clearly enjoying this way too much. "I knew you had it bad."
"I don't have it bad."
Jaxon leans back, arms crossed. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."
The thing is—I don't even know what this is.
After practice, I head to the student union, mostly hoping to grab some food before my next class. But the second I step inside, I spot her.
Emma.
She's sitting at one of the booths, sipping what looks like an iced coffee, scrolling through her phone. Her hair is pulled up into a loose ponytail, a few strands falling around her face.
I debate whether to go over.
Then, before I can decide, she looks up and catches my eye.
For half a second, something unreadable flashes across her face. Then, she smiles.
Okay. Maybe I'm not imagining things.
I make my way over, sliding into the seat across from her. "Morning."
She tilts her head. "You say that like you're actually awake."
I smirk. "Debatable."
She sips her drink, watching me over the rim. "You survived last night's deep thinking, then?"
I raise an eyebrow. "Deep thinking?"
She shrugs. "You looked pretty lost in thought when I left."
I hesitate. "Yeah, well. You caught me off guard."
Emma raises an eyebrow. "By saying goodnight?"
I lean forward slightly. "That's not what caught me off guard, and you know it."
Her lips twitch. "Oh, you mean—" She taps her cheek. "That?"
I give her a look. "Yes. That."
She hums, stirring her drink with her straw. "Huh. I didn't think it was that big of a deal."
It shouldn't have been. It really shouldn't.
But the fact that I'm still thinking about it? Yeah. That's a problem.
"Well," she says, grinning playfully, "if it makes you feel better, I won't do it again."
I study her for a second, then shake my head. "I didn't say that."
Emma laughs, and something about the sound makes the rest of the world blur just a little.
Yeah. I'm in trouble.