Page 38 of Hard Check

Mynervesmelted into ridiculously giddy laughter. "Wannatryagain?"

"Fuck,yes.Slower.Like… 80%lessnose."

The next time, we got it right. Our mouths met in a soft, shy, and electric kiss. I didn't hear any orchestral swell of music or see fireworks streaking across the sky. It was only two guys mashing lips mid-blizzard on a worn couch under a hand-stitched quilt.

Pike'slipswerewarm.Alittledry.He tasted like salt and vinegar, and something I couldn't quite identify, but I would probably crave forever.

When I angled my head and deepened the kiss slightly, his breath caught. It was a tiny sound that nearly undid me.

When we finally broke apart again, we were both breathing hard. I couldn't look away from him. With lips slightly parted, he appeared stunned.

Neither of us knew what to say. I looked down at my hands, suddenly fascinated by the scar across my right knuckle— a souvenir from a fight in juniors that I'd never properly let heal. Across from me, Pike's lip trembled slightly.

Finally, he whispered, "That didn't feel wrong."

Four more honest and straightforward words. They landed with more impact than any hit I'd taken on the ice.

"No, it didn't."

Still, neither of us moved to kiss again. The distance between us remained. What came next? What did this mean for his career, or mine, or the team? Were we something now, or only two people who kissed once during a power outage?

Pike shifted on the couch, drawing one knee up toward his chest in a posture that made him look younger and more vulnerable than his twenty-three years. He waited for his mentor to guide us through this uncharted territory.

Unfortunately, I had no map. No playbook. No veteran experience to draw from.

I retreated to the familiar—deflection, observation, and anything to avoid the raw, exposed feeling in my chest. I turned toward the window, where snow had completely covered the lower pane and was working its way up the second.

"Guess we're snowed in."

Pike nodded slowly, understanding what I wasn't saying. The kiss was something we couldn't resolve right away. It was too big.

He agreed with my assessment of the weather. "Probably until morning at least."

Silence stretched between us, not uncomfortable but charged with an awareness that hadn't existed before. Eventually, I stood, moving toward the kitchen to create some breathing space. "You want water? Or there's still some beer."

"Water's good."

I filled two glasses from the filter pitcher in my refrigerator, grateful for the mundane task. When I returned, Pike sat forward with his elbows on his knees, staring into the candle flame.

"Thanks." He took the glass from me, careful to avoid touching my fingers. "I should apologize."

"For what?"

"For making this complicated. You're my mentor. My teammate. And I just..."

"I kissed you back," I interrupted. "If anyone should apologize, it's me. I'm older. I should know better."

Pike shook his head. "Don't do that. I'm not some kid who doesn't know his own mind."

"I didn't say you were."

"But you're thinking it." He turned to look at me. "You're thinking that this is some... I don't know, phase or experiment or confusion."

"Is it?"

"No, it's not. I don't know what it is exactly, but it's not that."

Outside, the wind picked up again, howling around the corners of the building with renewed fury. We both glanced toward the window, where snow continued accumulating against the glass.

---