Chapter 5 ACCIDENTALLY KISSED

JAKE

“I’m not lying,” I managed to choke out, but my voice was a betrayed whisper.

Isaac didn’t move. He just watched me, his thumb tracing that slow, maddening circle against my skin again. “Then why is your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest, Jake?”

I finally looked up, meeting his eyes in the dark. “Because you’re annoying,” I snapped. I reached up, my fingers trembling as I grabbed his wrist, intending to shove him away. Instead, my grip tightened, holding him there. “Because you’re always there, Lim. In my head, on the ice, in this room... Ever since you dropped that bomb on me, I can’t even breathe without tripping over you.”

Isaac leaned in, his forehead almost touching mine. “Maybe stop trying to breathe around me,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over my lips. “And just breathe with me. Stop fighting it.”

I should have pushed him. Instead, I let out a jagged exhale and closed my eyes, leaning my head forward until our foreheads actually touched. It wasn’t a kiss, but it felt far more intimate—a total surrender to the six years of history shifting beneath my feet.

“I hate you,” I whispered into the inch of space between us.

“I know,” Isaac breathed back, his hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair. “Keep telling yourself that, White. Maybe one day you’ll actually believe it.”

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The next morning at the rink was a total disaster for my focus. Every time I looked at Isaac, I felt that phantom pressure on my arm where he’d held me.

“Hey, Jake,” Carter said, leaning against the glass and squinting at me during a break. “You okay? You’re playing like you’ve been drugged.”

“I’m fine,” I snapped, grabbing my bottle and squirting water into my mouth. “Just tired.”

“Tired?” Carter let out a short, dry laugh. “You just passed to Lim. On purpose. Without calling him a narcissist. You haven’t cursed his name in forty-five minutes, man. Are you dying?”

I felt the heat crawl up my neck—a familiar, traitorous burn. “We’re co-players, Carter. I’m trying to be professional. Like the officials and Miller commanded.”

Carter leaned in closer. “Professional? Jake, you’re vibrating. And Lim keeps looking over here like he’s waiting for you to explode. But not the ‘I’m gonna punch you’ kind of explode. The ‘I’m gonna melt’ kind.”

I looked across the ice. Isaac was standing by the opposite goal, talking to the coach, but as if he felt my gaze, his head turned. He just gave me a slow, knowing nod before turning back.

“Shut up, Carter,” I muttered, my heart doing that stupid, heavy thud again. “You’re seeing things.”

“I’m seeing a guy who’s one ‘good job’ away from a total meltdown,” Carter whispered, grinning. “What happened in that room last night, Jake?”

The question from Carter was like a ticking time bomb in my head. What happened in that room last night?

Every minute, I stepped onto the ice for the championship qualifier that afternoon, the cold air felt like it was stinging my skin, but my head was still back in that dark dorm room, feeling the weight of Isaac’s hand on my neck.

The arena was deafening. The rival team, the Titans, were known for being dirty, and they were already targeting my bruised ribs from the last game.

“Weave through them, White!” Isaac barked as we lined up for a face-off.

The puck dropped. I took a hard pass from Carter and sprinted down the wing, the wind whistling through my cage. I saw the opening, but two Titans closed in on me, ready to sandwich me into the boards. Then, a blur of white and blue slammed into one of them, taking the brunt of the collision. Isaac.

“Go!” he yelled. I flicked the puck into the top corner of the net and then ping - the most beautiful sound in the world.

The buzzer screamed, signifying the end of the period, and the stadium erupted. Driven by pure, unadulterated game adrenaline and the high of the play, Isaac crashed into me, throwing his arms around my shoulders in a massive celebratory hug.

He pulled back just an inch, his face flushed, eyes bright, and completely caught up in the absolute rush of the victory. And then, it happened. Before his brain could catch up with his actions, Isaac leaned in and pressed a quick, desperate kiss right against the exposed skin of my jawline, just beneath the edge of my helmet.

It lasted only a fraction of a second before the rest of the team swarmed us, piling onto my back and screaming in celebration. But as I was buried under a sea of jerseys, my brain was completely short-circuited. The roar of the crowd faded to a dull hum. Isaac’s grip on my shoulder loosened as he was pulled into the pile, but the spot on my jaw where his lips had touched felt like it was radiating pure electric heat.

Then, right against my ear, cutting through the muffled, deafening cheers of our teammates, came a low, sharp whisper from somewhere inside the pile.

"I saw that."