Chapter 82 : Disbelieving Breath
HAYDEN’S POV:
The party was already loud by the time we got there. The music was blasting through the house, bass heavy enough that I could feel it in my chest before we even stepped inside. Lights flash, people are everywhere—laughing, shouting, bodies pressed close together as they dance.
It is the kind of chaos that’s supposed to be fun. The kind I usually thrive in.
“Come on,” Lilian says, grabbing my hand and pulling me in like she owns the place.
She looks good tonight. She always does. She had a tight dress on which showed her curve, her hair was styled perfectly and she had the most confident smile, completely in her element. People notice her when she walks in.
I should feel something about that, maybe pride or some sort of satisfaction.
Instead, my eyes are already scanning the room, looking for him.
I don’t even realize I’m doing it until Lilian squeezes my hand. “You’re not even here yet,” she teases.
I glance down at her. “I’m here.”
She raises a brow like she doesn’t believe me, but then she just shrugs it off and drags me toward the drinks.
“Then prove it,” she says, grabbing two cups and handing one to me.
I take it without thinking and knock it back in one go. It burns going down.
“Easy,” she laughs. “We just got here.”
I shrug, already reaching for another. “I’m fine.” But I’m not.
Because no matter how loud the music is, no matter how many people are around me… I can still feel it.
That pull and tension that hasn’t gone away since last night.
I take another drink, slower this time, letting it settle as I lean back against the counter.
“Stay here,” Lilian says, brushing her fingers down my arm. “I’m gonna say hi to some people.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Go ahead.”
She leaves, disappearing into the crowd like it’s nothing and just like that… I’m alone.
My jaw tightens slightly as I glance around, my gaze moving over faces I half-recognize until….right there. It was Stephen.
He was across the room, standing with a couple of teammates, with a drink in his hand. He looks relaxed like this is easy for him.
My grip tightens slightly around my cup as I watch him laugh at something someone said.
Then someone else steps closer to him.
It was a guy.
I don’t recognize him. He was not from the team, not from anywhere I’ve seen before. But the way he leans in, the way he’s looking at Stephen….Yeah. I know exactly what that is.
Stephen doesn’t move away. He just… stood there, listening, a faint smirk on his face like he’s entertained.
Something hot and sharp twists in my chest.
I take another drink, then another.
It doesn’t help. If anything, it made it worse because now I can’t look away and I’m stuck watching as the guy says something that makes Stephen laugh again. As his hand brushes Stephen’s arm like it’s nothing.
Like he has the right.
“Seriously?” I mutter under my breath.
My jaw clenches as I push off the counter, moving before I can think better of it.
I shouldn’t care. I don’t care.
That’s what I told him and what I keep telling myself but my feet are already carrying me across the room anyway.
By the time I reach them, the conversation is still going.
“…so you play?” the guy is asking.
“Yeah,” Stephen replies easily. “I’m a good striker.”
“Damn,” the guy grins. “That explains a lot.”
Stephen huffs out a quiet laugh.
I step in before I can stop myself. “Sorry, he is busy.”
The words come out sharper than I intended.
Both of them turn toward me.
Stephen’s expression shifts immediately, surprise flickering across his face before it settles into something more guarded. “Hayden.”
The guy glances between us. “Uh….”
“Go,” I say flatly, not even looking at him.
There’s a beat of hesitation, then he shrugs. “Alright, man. Chill.” and then he is gone.
Silence stretches between us for half a second.
Stephen exhales slowly, shaking his head. “What the hell was that?”
“I saved you from the creep,” I shot back.
“From what?” he asks, incredulous. “A conversation?”
I step closer, lowering my voice. “You don’t even know him.”
“And?” he snaps. “Since when is that your problem?”
I don’t have an answer for that, not one I’m willing to say out loud.
“Just…” I start, then stop, frustrated. “Forget it.”
Stephen watches me for a second, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Then he shakes his head again. “You’re unbelievable.”
And that…that pisses me off more than anything.
Before I can think, before I can stop myself, I grab his wrist.
“Come with me.”
“What…Hayden…”
I won't wait.
I drag him through the crowd, ignoring the way people look at us and the way he tries to pull back.
“Let go…”
“Not until you shut up,” I mutter.
I push open the restroom door and pull him inside, slamming it shut behind us.
The noise from the party dulls instantly, replaced by a heavy, echoing silence.
Stephen yanks his arm free, glaring at me. “What is wrong with you?”
A lot is wrong with me and it is too much and i don’t know how to explain any of it. So instead…..I kissed him.
It’s not soft. It’s messy and abrupt and fueled by everything I’ve been trying to ignore all night.
He freezes for half a second, then he kisses me back and that…that makes something snap.
He can’t just stand there and flirt with someone else and then turn around and kiss me like this.
My hand curls into his shirt, pulling him closer for a second before I shove him back just as hard.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I snap, my chest heaving.
Stephen stares at me, breath uneven, eyes wide with shock. “Me? You’re the one who dragged me in here!”
“You were flirting with him.”
“And?” he shoots back. “You said you didn’t care.”
“I don’t,” I bite out immediately.
“Then why are you acting like this?”
I don’t answer because I don’t know how to say it without admitting something I’m not ready to admit.
The silence stretches, thick and suffocating.
Then, I shove him hard. “Stop acting like an asshole.”
His back hits the wall with a dull thud, shock flashing across his face. “What…”
I didn't let him finish as I kissed him again.
This time slower and more passionate.
My hand comes up to his jaw, holding him there like I need him to stay still, like I need this to mean something.
When I pull back, my forehead rests against his for a second, both of us breathing too hard.
“Stay away from him,” I mutter.
Stephen lets out a shaky, disbelieving breath. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I do.”
His eyes search mine, like he is trying to figure me out and he is trying to find something I’m not saying and maybe he does.