Page 27 of Second Chance with the Enemy CEO (Second Chance Hockey Players #1)
I glare at him before turning back to Mrs. Carter with a smile. After a bit of small talk, she wanders off, leaving us alone again.
“Remember the Fourth of July fireworks? You and Ethan nearly set her dock on fire.”
“That was his fault,” Liam says quickly. “He’s the one who thought a Roman candle fight was a good idea.”
I laugh; the memory is as vivid as if it happened yesterday. “You didn’t exactly try to stop him.”
“Fair point.” He grins. “What about you? You were the one who convinced us to sneak out to the lake in the first place.”
“Guilty,” I admit, smiling despite myself.
After that, we were interrupted a few more times by a few people popping up to say hello to us, mostly me.
Liam leans in after the third interruption. “You’re like a local celebrity.”
I snort. “Hardly.”
As the evening progresses, our conversation drifts to memories of the town. We trade stories, teasing each other over old mishaps and shared experiences.
“Do you still listen to K-pop?” Liam asks suddenly, his tone casual but curious.
“Oh, absolutely,” I reply without hesitation. “BTS will always be my king, but I have been branching out. BLACKPINK, Stray Kids, TXT … You know, the usual.”
He raises a brow. “That’s…, quite the list.”
“What about you?” I challenge myself. “Still stuck on your generic workout playlists?”
“Hey, they’re efficient,” he defends, but there is a glint of amusement in his eyes.
We keep talking as the night deepens, the festival fading into background noise.
Somewhere along the way, I lose track of how many beers I have had, way more than my three bottles from the six-pack, that’s for sure.
The conversation flows effortlessly, slipping between teasing jabs and quieter, more reflective moments.
For a moment, I completely let go of the fact that he is my ex.
When the festival starts winding down, Liam insists on taking me home. I try to argue, but my feet are wobbly, and my head’s buzzing pleasantly - enough to make me admit that maybe I do need the help.
“Thanks,” I mumble as we reach my apartment door, fumbling with my keys.
“For what?” he asks, his voice low.
“For bringing me home. For…, tonight. It was fun.” I glance at him over my shoulder, and for the first time, I notice how close he is - close enough that I can see the faint stubble on his jaw.
“Anytime,” he says, his tone soft, and something in the way he looks at me sends a flutter through my chest.
I manage to get the door open, but as I step inside, I stumble slightly. Liam catches me by the elbow, steadying me. “Whoa there,” he murmurs.
“Guess I’m drunker than I thought,” I admit, laughing lightly.
He chuckles, guiding me into the living room and easing me onto the couch. “You don’t say.”
I lean back, letting my head rest against the cushions, and look up at him. “You’re surprisingly good at this,” I say, slurring slightly.
“At what?”
“Taking care of me,” I reply, blinking up at him, “it’s… nice.”
He is quiet for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then he kneels in front of me, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “You’ve always been a handful, Hazel,” he says.
I laugh softly, closing my eyes. “You liked it, though. Admit it.”
He does not answer right away, and when I open my eyes again, he’s watching me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
“Liam?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah?”
I do not know if it’s the alcohol or the fact that I’ve been holding back for so long, but the words slip out before I can stop them. “I want to feel the taste of your lips.”
His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, I think I have crossed some invisible line. But then he leans closer, his hand cupping my cheek. “Hazel, you’re drunk,” he says softly, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.
“I know,” I whisper, my gaze locked on his. “That’s why I’m this bold.”
He hesitates for the briefest of moments, and then his lips brush against mine - tentative, almost testing. It is gentle at first, but when I respond, threading my fingers through his hair, it deepens into something more.
The kiss is slow and unhurried as if we have all the time in the world. His hand moves to my waist, pulling me closer, and I lose myself in his warmth, in the way he tastes faintly of beer and something else - something that’s entirely Liam.
When we finally pull apart, we are both breathing heavily, our foreheads resting against each other.
“Hazel,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “This…, we….”
“I know,” I whisper, my heart pounding in my chest. “But let’s not think about it tonight. Just…, stay. We will deal with our dislike for each other tomorrow.”
His hesitation is brief, but then he nods, his arms wrapping around me as he pulls me into his chest.
“So…, would it be weird if I asked something right now?”
Liam chuckles, the sound low and a little shaky. “Considering what just happened? Go ahead. I doubt it will top that.”
I lean back slightly, meeting his gaze. There is a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, but he does not pull away. “Would it be right to say we are exes? Or are we technically still dating?”
His brow furrows, and he tilts his head. “What?”
“Well,” I say, rubbing my eyes to clear the incoming sleep, “neither of us ever said the classic ‘I’m breaking up with you five years ago.’ So…, are we still, like…, together by default?”
He stares at me for a moment, then exhales. “Hazel, that’s….”
“Well, if it’s any consolation,” I say, drifting off to la la land, “you were a pretty decent boyfriend…, for a guy who didn’t officially break up with me.”
He tightens his hold on me, and for the first time in years, I feel like I am exactly where I’m meant to be.