Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Jess
A cheer thunders through the arena as the Stingers sink a three-pointer. I clap along automatically. The overhead lights wash the court in gold, fans stomping and chanting in unison, but beside me, Kyle’s face is lit only by the pale blue glow of his screen.
Kyle is a drag. I could have stayed home and had the same conversation with the wall.
The only saving grace? The stranger sitting beside me.
He’s not just good-looking—he’s good. Warm, genuine. I nearly teared up when he talked about his dad, and the way he jokes with his sister makes something twist in my chest. He’s everything Kyle isn’t tonight—present.
When his knee brushes mine, it’s almost impossible to hear the crowd over the rush in my ears. Each accidental touch has heat inching up my center.
I try not to notice his every move, concentrating hard on the game.
The squeak of sneakers on the court and the buzz of the scoreboard blend together as I force myself to pay attention.
I can’t help but appreciate his passion for the game. He sighs in disappointment when a shot misses, and when the home team scores, he erupts in a cheer with so much enthusiasim, he nearly spills his drink.
When our player scores a three, he and his sister perform a complicated handshake that looks decades old.
“Kyle?” I try.
Nothing.
I poke his arm.
“Yeah?” His eyes never leave his phone.
“I’m gonna get a Diet Coke.”
I stand, and the soles of my shoes stick to the floor, making me wobble. Kyle grabs my elbow and scowls up at me.
“I’ll go,” he says. “Don’t want you spilling again.”
Heat crawls up my neck. Is that why he’s been ignoring me? Because of one clumsy moment?
Not that I’m even sure I want his attention anymore.
Dropping back into my seat, I bump elbows with the stranger.
“Sorry,” I murmur.
“My bad,” he says at the same time, and our laughter tangles together like it belongs there.
“Tall people problems,” I joke.
His grin is quick and unguarded, and for the first time all night, I feel seen.
When he rises to cheer with his sister, I let myself look. Really look. Broad shoulders that strain against his shirt. Dark auburn hair that catches the light. A beard that frames his mouth in a way I didn’t realize beards could do.
“I’m too big for these tiny seats,” he complains in a deep, rumbling voice that matches his stature.
“They’re worse than airplane seats,” I say, shifting to find a more comfortable position.
He drops his gaze to my legs, then slowly raises it back to my face. His intense stare strikes a match along my skin, leaving a fiery trail in its wake.
The crowd cheers, but neither one of us glances at the court. I can’t look away from his expressive eyes. They tilt up at the corners, making it look like he’s got a secret. A good one.
I could fall into that gaze, and for a moment, I do. I forget I’m at a game with a date and imagine what it would be like to be with him instead.
A blush spreads through my entire body as I think about the inevitable goodnight kiss. Would his beard be soft or scratchy? And what would it feel like scraping against my cheek, my neck, my collar bone?
Good Lord! I need to stop reading Gran’s romance novels she leaves lying around in our shared studio. This guy isn’t a fictional hero. He’s a stranger.
My heart races in my chest. I want to know his name and a lot more. But I’m here with Kyle, and just talking to this man seems like a betrayal.
The crowd erupts with a loud cheer, giving me a much-needed distraction from my thoughts.
I try to watch the game, but I can’t be more uninterested. My mind is on the man next to me. When he stands to cheer and high-five his sister, I can’t help but admire the fit of his well-worn jeans.
Kyle returns with a beer. He shoves it into my hand and drops into his seat, phone already in play.
“Anything good happen while I was gone?” he asks absently.
I glance at the stranger, the spark still crackling between us, then force a shake of my head. “Not much.”
It feels like the biggest lie of my life.
Kyle nods absently and scrolls.
“Were they out of Diet Coke?” I ask.
No answer.
“Kyle?”
Thunderous applause swells, swallowing my voice. I glance up—only to find the entire row staring at me. A woman in front of me grins and points. “You’re on the kiss cam, honey!”
My stomach free-falls.
There I am, twenty feet tall above the court, with a glittery sprig of mistletoe hanging over my head.
The crowd chants, “Kiss! Kiss!”
I glance at Kyle. He doesn’t even notice. Still scrolling. Mortification burns my cheeks, and I duck my head to avoid the camera.
I wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole. A thousand eyes are on me, and the weight tethers me to the spot.
And then, the stranger prods me with his elbow.
“What do you say?” he asks in that low, rumbly voice. “Should we give them what they want?”
My pulse stutters.
He’s watching me, his eyes bright and steady. His nearness pulls me in like gravity.
I should laugh it off. Shrug. Hide my face until the camera moves on.
But I don’t.
Instead, I want to do this. I tip toward him an inch—then stop. My breath catches.
I shouldn’t. I’m with Kyle.
I risk a glance at him, and the blue glow from his phone shines on his face. He doesn’t see me.
The crowd’s chant grows louder. His sister is clapping along, egging us on.
My gaze drops to his mouth.
He lifts his hand slowly, giving me every chance to pull back. When his palm cups my cheek, I feel the calluses of his fingers, rough against my skin. My entire body lights up.
The moment stretches taut. Too long. Not long enough.
I lean forward, just a little, my heart galloping, my lips parting on a shaky exhale.
And then he closes the distance.
Our lips meet, tentative at first, then lingering, as if both of us are afraid to shatter the moment. The pressure deepens, his mouth coaxing mine open, his beard brushing my skin in a way that makes my toes curl in my high heels.
The scratch of the short bristles feels just like I imagined—electrifying.
The arena erupts, but I barely hear it. There’s only the thrill of kissing him racing through me, pulling me under, making me forget anyone else exists.
Until a furious voice cuts through the haze.
“Jess! What the hell?”
Kyle has finally looked up from his phone.