Page 124 of Offside Attraction

The cold air hits me the second I step outside, sharp and biting. It doesn’t help.

The drive home is quiet. No music. Just the hum of the engine and my thoughts circling the same wreckage over and over again.

That kiss tonight wasn’t curiosity.

It wasn’t an impulse.

It was hunger I’ve been pretending didn’t exist.

I grip the steering wheel tighter, knuckles whitening, because admitting that means admitting something else too—something I’ve spent years burying under noise and excuses.

I didn’t want him the way I wanted anyone else.

With girls, it was easy. Clean. I could walk away without looking back. I never needed them. Never thought about them afterward. Never felt this ache, this pull, this stupid, reckless need tobe seen.

Dakota has always been different.

Even back then. Even when I was too much of a coward to understand what that meant.

Four years ago, I hurt him because it was easier than facing the truth—that the way he made me feel wasn’t anger, or rivalry, or disgust. It was fear. Desire. Something I didn’t have the language for and didn’t want to name.

So I destroyed it instead.

The realization sits heavy in my chest as I pull into my driveway.

I don’t want him because he’s forbidden.

I want him because he’s the first person who’s ever made me feel like this—like I’m standing too close to myself, like one wrong move and everything I’ve built will come crashing down.

And the worst part?

I don’t know how to want him without hurting him again.

I sit there with the engine running, forehead resting against the steering wheel, knowing one thing with brutal clarity:

That kiss didn’t end anything.

It started something that might ruin us both.

To be continued…