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The evening breeze did little to calm my nerves as I stepped out of Graham's house, my mind still replaying the awkward encounter with Nate.

Why did he always manage to get under my skin?

From the flight to this party, every interaction with him left me irritated, even though I couldn't pinpoint exactly why.

I lingered outside the house, pretending to enjoy the fresh air but really just trying to get some space from everything.

Graham had been kind enough to invite me, and the last thing I wanted was to ruin the evening with my foul mood. I needed to shake this off, forget about Nate Valenko and the strange tension that simmered between us.

Just as I was lost in thought, the door behind me opened, and I heard footsteps approach. My stomach tightened. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"Trying to escape?" Nate's voice was surprisingly soft, but it still held that edge I couldn't ignore.

I exhaled slowly, steadying myself before turning to face him. "Just needed some air. I didn't expect to see you out here."

He shrugged, leaning against the porch railing. "Could say the same to you. Didn't seem like your scene inside."

I folded my arms across my chest, both as a defensive stance and to warm myself against the night air. "I came to support Graham. That's all."

Nate's eyes flickered with something-curiosity, maybe. Or doubt. "Is that really all?"

I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he replied too quickly, though the smirk tugging at his lips suggested otherwise. "It's just... you don't strike me as someone who would enjoy these kinds of gatherings."

"And you do?" I shot back, unable to stop myself from the retort. Why did he always seem to provoke a reaction from me?

Nate chuckled, a low sound that only made my irritation flare. "Touché. But let's just say I've learned to survive them. Comes with the territory."

"The territory of being a hockey star?" I asked, the sarcasm lacing my tone.

His smirk faded slightly. "Something like that."

There was an awkward silence that followed, and I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He wasn't looking at me with the cockiness I'd come to associate with him.

Instead, his expression seemed... thoughtful, as if he was trying to figure me out. It only made me feel more exposed, more vulnerable than I wanted to be.

Before I could say something to break the silence, the door behind us opened again, and Graham stepped out, grinning.

"Hey, you two! There you are," he said cheerfully, oblivious to the tension in the air. "Come back inside. We're just about to start a game. You can't miss it!"

Nate glanced at me, then back at Graham, and nodded. "Sure. Why not?"

I hesitated, but Graham's enthusiasm was infectious, and I didn't want to be the one to spoil the mood. "Alright," I relented, forcing a smile. "Let's go."

We walked back inside, the noise and warmth of the party hitting us immediately. Graham led us to the center of the room, where a group had gathered around a table for some kind of card game. Nate and I ended up standing next to each other, which only heightened my awareness of his presence.

The game was simple enough, something designed to lighten the mood, but I found it hard to focus. Every time Nate laughed or spoke, my attention was drawn to him. I didn't want to care, didn't want to let him affect me like this, but there was something about him that I couldn't ignore.

And then it happened. The game took a turn that involved answering personal questions, and when it was Nate's turn, the question asked was about regrets.

He hesitated, looking down at the card in his hand before answering, "I regret letting someone slip away before I really got to know them."

I couldn't explain why, but his words hit me harder than I expected. I glanced at him, only to find his eyes already on me. The weight of his gaze made my heart race, and suddenly, I felt exposed in a way I wasn't prepared for.

The game continued, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Nate's words had been meant for me-or at least, that they had something to do with our strange dynamic. I needed to distance myself from him before I got pulled in too deep.

As soon as the game ended, I made an excuse and slipped out of the room, heading for the kitchen to collect my thoughts. I didn't hear the footsteps behind me until it was too late.

"Samaira," Nate's voice called out, low and insistent.

I turned, my defenses immediately back up. "What?"

"Why are you avoiding me?" he asked bluntly, stepping closer. His expression was unreadable, but there was an intensity in his eyes that made my breath catch.

"I'm not avoiding you," I said, though we both knew it wasn't true.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I don't know what it is between us, but every time we're around each other, it feels... complicated. And I don't like leaving things unresolved."

I scoffed, crossing my arms. "Maybe some things are better left unresolved."

"Maybe," he agreed quietly, stepping even closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "But maybe not."

For a second, neither of us moved. The air between us crackled with unspoken tension, the space too charged with everything we weren't saying.

And then, without thinking, he reached out, his hand brushing my arm. I didn't pull away, and that was all the encouragement he seemed to need. Slowly, he leaned in, his gaze flicking between my eyes and my lips. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest, a frantic rhythm that matched the wild thoughts in my mind.

I wasn't moving either. I didn't want to move. His breath mixed with mine, the air between us vanishing until there was only him-his presence, his nearness, the undeniable pull between us.

But just as he was about to close the distance, he stopped. Barely centimeters from my lips, his breath hitched, and he stepped back, shaking his head as if trying to clear it.

I blinked, the moment snapping like a fragile thread. I cleared my throat, trying to sound indifferent. "We-We should get back to the party," I muttered, as if nothing had happened.

Nate nodded, his voice strained. "Yeah. Right."

We stood there for a second longer, both of us trying to regain our composure, the tension lingering in the air like an unsaid confession. Then I turned and walked back to the door, but I couldn't stop thinking about that almost-kiss, about how close we'd come to crossing a line I wasn't sure either of us was ready for.

When we stepped back into the party, the noise and chatter filled the space between us, but the weight of what had almost happened lingered in the back of my mind.

Every glance Nate threw my way, every accidental brush of his arm, sent my thoughts spiraling back to the kitchen, to that moment when I almost let myself give in.

I stayed in the kitchen for a while longer after Samaira left, trying to make sense of what had just happened. My heart was still racing, the phantom feel of her skin under my fingertips lingering.

I didn't know what it was about her, but every time I saw her, my emotions twisted into something I couldn't quite control.

The banter, the tension, the way she looked at me-it all made me want to break through whatever walls she had up, even if it frustrated the hell out of me.

But seeing her with Graham stirred something else. I knew Graham was just being a friend, but it didn't stop the irrational surge of protectiveness I felt.

I wanted to be the one she turned to, even though I had no right to feel that way.

When I finally rejoined the party, I spotted her across the room, laughing at something Graham said. The sight of her smiling, so carefree, made me pause.

She looked different when she let her guard down-more at ease, more real. And damn it, I wanted to be the one who saw that side of her, not just the tough exterior she showed the world.

But I wasn't sure how to get past that. Or if she even wanted me to.

For now, all I could do was watch her from a distance, trying to make sense of the strange pull between us. Even if everything in me screamed that this wasn't over-not by a long shot.

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I'm pretty sure we felt the tension as well.

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