Chapter 4 The Last Person He Wanted
Damien’s POV
The first thing i noticed when i saw the replay wasn’t the kiss.
It was Ethan’s hesitation.
That half second pause right before he did it like something inside him snapped and decided consequences didn’t matter anymore.
That was what stayed with me.
Not the cameras.
Not the noise.
Not the chaos erupting in the locker room after.
Just him.
Ethan Ryder.
Standing too close.
Breathing too fast.
And then, kissing me like it was the most reckless decision of his life.
I sat alone in my apartment with the television still on.
The screen kept looping the same footage.
Locker room, shouting, movement and then Ethan grabbing me.
And kissing me.
Over and over again.
I should’ve turned it off.
I didn’t.
My jaw still ached where his punch landed earlier, but I barely felt it. Physical pain was simple. Manageable. Predictable.
Ethan Ryder had never been any of those things.
My phone vibrated on the glass table again.
Sofia.
I ignored it.
It vibrated again immediately.
Then again.
Relentless.
I exhaled slowly and finally picked it up.
“What?” I said.
“You’re trending,” Sofia’s voice snapped instantly. No greeting. No softness. Just panic wrapped in professionalism. “Worldwide. Every sports channel. Every gossip site. Every damn fan account.”
“I saw.”
“You saw?” she repeated sharply. “Damien, there’s footage of you and Ryder kissing in a locker room after a championship loss.”
“I’m aware.”
A pause.
That rare silence from Sofia usually meant she was calculating how many ways to kill me without losing her job.
“Do you have anything you want to say before I lose my mind?” she asked finally.
I leaned back into the couch.
“No.”
“That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Preferably that didn't happen.”
“It happened.”
Another pause.
This one longer.
Then, carefully, “Was it staged?”
I stared at the screen again.
Ethan’s face.
Flushed. Angry. Confused.
Real.
“No,” I said.
Sofia exhaled sharply. “Damien—”
“It wasn’t staged.”
The line went quiet again.
I could practically hear her thinking through damage control scenarios.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
“Bad enough that sponsors are already pulling inquiries,” she said. “The league is calling an emergency review. Fans are either calling it a publicity stunt or a breakdown. No one knows what to believe.”
I didn’t respond.
Because none of that mattered.
What mattered was the image burned into my mind.
Ethan’s mouth against mine.
Not soft.
Not careful.
Not planned.
Just Instinct.
“You’re going to have to issue a statement,” Sofia said.
“No.”
“Damien.”
“No statements.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“I don’t care.”
Another long silence.
Then her voice dropped lower.
“You realize they’re going to investigate everything now, right? Your rivalry, your behavior, your history with him—”
My grip tightened slightly on the phone.
“Let them.”
“Damien, if they find anything questionable”
“They won’t.”
A pause.
Then, softer, “Did something happen between you two?”
I didn’t answer immediately.
My eyes drifted back to the replay.
Again.
Ethan pulling away after the kiss like he’d been burned.
Like he regretted it instantly.
Like I was supposed to be offended.
But I wasn’t.
That was the problem.
“No,” I said finally.
Sofia didn’t sound convinced.
“You’re lying to me.”
“I’m not.”
“You’ve never reacted like this to him before.”
My jaw tightened.
Because that part was true.
Ethan Ryder had always been noise.
Chaos.
Fire.
Something I could control by pushing back harder.
But tonight.
Tonight he wasn’t just noise.
He was unpredictable.
“Just handle the media,” I said.
“That’s not all I’m handling,” she snapped. “Your reputation is borderline collapse right now. And if this turns into something deeper”.
“It won’t.”
I ended the call before she could continue.
Silence returned instantly.
The apartment felt too big.
Too quiet.
Too empty.
I set the phone down and leaned forward, elbows resting on my knees.
The replay looped again on the television.
Ethan’s hands gripping my jersey.
His breath too close.
His eyes burning with something I didn’t want to name.
I should’ve been angry.
That would’ve been normal.
Expected.
Clean.
But anger wasn’t what sat in my chest.
It was something heavier.
Something irritatingly persistent.
I stood up abruptly and walked to the kitchen, pouring a glass of water I didn’t need. My hands were steady.
Too steady.
That bothered me more than anything else.
Because nothing about Ethan Ryder was supposed to affect me like this.
Seven years.
Seven years of rivalry.
Of calculated hatred.
Of carefully maintained distance disguised as competition.
And then he kisses me.
Like I wasn’t the enemy.
Like I was something else entirely.
I tightened my grip on the glass.
The memory shifted.
Not the kiss.
The moment before it.
Ethan’s eyes.
Not angry.
Not mocking.
Confused.
Lost.
And then.
Decision.
I exhaled slowly.
My phone buzzed again on the table.
This time I answered without checking the caller.
“What.”
“Cross.”
A different voice.
League director.
Perfect.
“Your behavior tonight is under immediate review,” he said sharply. “We need clarification on the incident with Ryder.”
“There is no incident.”
“There’s footage.”
“There’s noise,” I corrected. “Nothing more.”
A pause.
“You’re aware this could damage both of your careers.”
“I’m aware.”
“And yet you’re refusing to comment.”
“I don’t comment on distractions.”
His tone hardened. “Ryder is not a distraction.”
My grip tightened slightly.
Something sharp flickered inside my chest at that.
“He is to me,” I said evenly.
Another pause.
“Then explain why you kissed him.”
Silence.
The question landed differently than I expected.
Because it wasn’t accusation.
It was curiosity.
Dangerous curiosity.
“I didn’t,” I said immediately.
A lie.
A clean one.
But even I could hear the strain in it.
The line went quiet again.
Then, carefully, “We’re scheduling a mandatory press conference tomorrow. You and Ryder will appear together.”
My stomach tightened slightly.
“No.”
“This isn’t optional.”
“I said no.”
“Damien”
I ended the call.
Hard.
The phone hit the table a little louder than intended.
I stood still for a moment, staring at nothing.
A press conference.
Together.
With Ethan Ryder.
My jaw clenched.
That was going to be a disaster.
A slow one.
Or a very fast one.
Neither option was appealing.
I walked back into the living room and stopped in front of the television again.
The replay continued.
Ethan pulling away.
Eyes wide.
Breathing uneven.
Like he didn’t understand what he had just done.
Or why he had done it.
My chest tightened slightly.
Annoying.
I reached for the remote and finally turned the screen off.
Darkness filled the room instantly.
For a moment, I thought that would help.
It didn’t.
Because the silence only made the memory louder.
Ethan Ryder kissing me.
Ethan Ryder leaving first.
Ethan Ryder looking at me like I had become something unfamiliar.
I exhaled slowly.
“Stupid,” I muttered to myself.
It should’ve ended there.
It should’ve stayed a mistake.
A reaction.
Alcohol. Adrenaline. Anger.
But even as I told myself that—
My mind didn’t agree.
Because there had been a moment.
Right after the kiss.
Before he pulled away.
Before everything broke apart.
Where Ethan didn’t look like he hated me.
He looked like he almost.
I stopped the thought immediately.
No.
Absolutely not.
I turned away from the dark screen and headed toward the bedroom.
Sleep would fix nothing.
But it would at least quiet the noise.
Or so I thought.
Because as I lay down in the dark, staring at the ceiling, one thought refused to leave.
Ethan Ryder hadn’t just kissed me.
He had chosen to.
And worse for a split second, I hadn’t stopped him.
