Chapter 6: Aftershock.
900 Words
Kieran's pov.
Two weeks should be enough.
That’s what I told myself.
Enough time for it to fade.
Enough time for it to make sense.
Enough time for me to go back to normal.
But it isn’t.
Not even close.
I still remember it exactly.
Not the moment before.
Not even what he said after.
Just the way he closed the distance like it was nothing.
The way his hand fisted into my shirt.
The way I didn’t stop him.
At first, it was just shock.
Clean.
Simple.
Manageable.
I avoided thinking about it.
Avoided replaying it.
Avoided anything that made it real.
Because if I didn’t look at it directly, it could stay a mistake.
An impulse.
Something that didn’t mean anything.
That’s what I told myself.
For three days.
On the fourth day, that stopped working.
Because memory doesn’t fade when you ignore it.
It sharpens and rebuilds itself into something worse.
Something clearer.
Something I couldn’t shut down anymore.
I started remembering details I didn’t want.
The pressure.
The closeness.
The warmth of his lips.
The fact that it didn’t feel unfamiliar.
That’s the problem.
It should have.
By the end of the first week, it wasn’t shock anymore.
It was something else.
Something heavier.
Something I didn’t have a name for.
Something that kept showing up at the worst possible times.
During practice.
During film review.
Mid-conversation.
Like my brain had decided this was now something worth revisiting without my permission.
And it didn’t stop there.
Because once the shock wore off,
something else slipped in.
Curiosity.
That’s what I called it at first.
That was easier.
Curiosity about why he did it.
What it meant.
What he thought it meant.
What he expected to happen after.
Except, that’s not what it actually was.
Not completely.
Because curiosity doesn’t make your chest tighten when you think about it.
Curiosity doesn’t make you replay the exact angle of someone’s mouth against yours like it’s a detail you need to study.
Curiosity definitely doesn’t make your body react like that memory isn’t just memory.
That realization hit late.
Later than it should have.
And once it did, there was no going back.
Elias Vane kissed me.
That part is fact.
Simple.
Undeniable.
But the part that followed...
the part I didn’t expect...
Was what it meant about him.
About me.
About everything I thought I understood.
I don’t label things quickly.
I don’t assume.
I don’t speculate without information.
But that wasn’t something you misread.
That wasn’t something you explained away.
That wasn’t rivalry.
That wasn’t impulse.
That was passion and intent.
And once that settled in,
everything else got worse.
Because now it wasn’t just about the kiss.
It was about him.
About what that meant.
About what he was.
About why I couldn’t stop thinking about it like it changed something fundamental I hadn’t even realized was there before.
I tried to reach out once.
That was a mistake.
It was late.
Too late to be reasonable.
Too early to be called anything else.
I stared at his profile longer than I should have.
Name.
Picture.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing that explained anything.
I typed a message.
Deleted it.
Typed another.
Deleted that too.
Then finally, something simple.
We need to talk.
I sent it.
Watched it deliver.
Waited.
Nothing.
The next morning, still nothing.
No response.
No read receipt.
No acknowledgment.
Like it disappeared into nothing.
Like it didn’t matter.
Like I didn’t matter.
That irritated me more than it should have.
So I stopped trying.
Not because I didn’t want to.
Because I refused to be the only one reacting to something that clearly wasn’t one sided.
Two weeks.
No contact.
No explanation.
No resolution.
Just a scorching kiss that almost made my knees melt, sitting between us like something unfinished.
And now, we’re here again.
Game day.
The arena feels exactly the same.
I step onto the ice last.
Same as always.
Same routine.
Same control.
But it doesn’t feel quite the same.
Because I know he’s here.
I don’t have to look to know.
I feel it.
That same awareness that’s been worse these past two weeks instead of better.
Like distance didn’t dilute it.
It intensified it.
Then I look up.
He’s already on the ice.
His eyes focused and controlled.
Like nothing happened.
Like two weeks ago didn’t exist.
Like he didn’t change something he hasn’t even acknowledged.
My jaw tightens.
Because that...
That’s not something I can ignore anymore.
He looks up.
And finds me immediately.
Of course he does.
That hasn’t changed.
Nothing about that has changed.
For a second, everything else fades as our eyes meet.
The crowd, the noise, our teammates all disappears into the background.
It’s just him that's left.
Looking at me like he always does.
Except now...
I know something I didn’t know before.
And I can’t unknow it.
My pulse shifts.
Not nerves.
Not adrenaline.
Something heavier.
Something hotter.
Something that sits lower and hits harder.
He doesn’t look away.
Neither do I.
And just like that,
the hockey game hasn’t even started yet,
but we’re already back in it.
Not the match.
Not the rivalry.
Something else.
Something worse.
Because now I’m not just playing to win.
I’m playing for an answer.
And this time,
I’m not letting him walk away without giving me one.
Pretenses in front of others be damned!
- Writer
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