7. Sara

SARA

I'm just about to turn off the TV and head to bed when my phone buzzes on the coffee table. I pick it up, my heart doing an excited little dance in my chest when I see Emile's name on the screen.

"Emile?" I answer, trying to sound casual, even though my pulse is racing.

"Hey, Sara. Hope I didn't wake you." His voice is warm and slightly husky, and if I close my eyes, it's like I can see him standing right in front of me. I hug a pillow to my chest.

"No, not at all. I was watching a movie. What's up?"

There's a brief pause, and I can almost picture him running a hand through his dark hair. "Come downstairs."

"Now?" I glance at the clock. It's well past midnight, but I can't deny the flood of curiosity that washes over me.

"Yeah, I know it's late, but...I thought we could take a walk."

"A walk? Around the city? In the dark?"

He chuckles, and the sound is so warm and intimate I feel a tingle between my legs. "I'll keep you safe, I promise."

I glance at the clock again, biting my lip. The rational part of my brain is telling me to say no, to go to bed and put some distance between myself and this growing attraction to Emile.

But my heart has other ideas.

"OK, I'll come downstairs," I find myself saying. "Where do you want to meet?"

"I'm already standing outside your building. I'll wait for you out front."

"I'll be right down." I hang up, my heart pounding as I rush to my room to change out of my pajamas and take off Emile's jersey. I quickly pull on a pair of jeans and my favorite sweater, the one that always makes me feel like I can conquer anything. A quick glance in the mirror confirms I'm presentable, but I run a brush through my hair just to be safe.

As I head down the stairs, my mind races with thoughts of what this midnight stroll might mean. Is this just a friendly outing, or is there something more happening here? Do I dare even hope there's something more?

Doing my best not to overthink it as I ride the elevator to the lobby, I step out the automatic doors to my building, and there he is, leaning casually against a lamppost, looking like he walked straight off a movie set. His leather jacket catches the soft glow of the streetlights and his hair is so messed up it looks like he just rolled out of bed. When he spots me, a slow, easy smile spreads across his face.

"Hey," he says, pushing off the lamppost and walking toward me.

"Hey yourself," I say, feeling suddenly unsure if I should even be here. I mean, what is this? And why is this even happening? Emile is a rising hockey star, and I'm…just me. Plain old me. "Is everything OK? I thought you'd still be partying at Russo's all night."

He shrugs, falling into step beside me as we start to walk. "I was, but I kept wishing I was somewhere else."

"Somewhere else?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady as he opens his leather jacket just enough to reveal a soft navy-blue T-shirt underneath. "And where exactly did you wish you were?"

He stops for a moment, his eyes locking onto mine. "Here. With you," he says, like it's the easiest thing in the world. I almost fall over as I blink up at him, stunned.

"Why?"

Emile chuckles lightly before he shifts a little closer, his hand brushing against mine. "Because I can't stop thinking about you. I know that sounds cheesy as hell, but ever since I ran into you outside the coffee shop, you're literally the only thing that's been on my mind." He pauses, then adds with a smirk, "And seeing you wearing my number today…" He sucks in a shivery breath. "It did something to me."

I feel my cheeks heat while my brow furrows in confusion, and I look away, focusing on the sidewalk instead of him. "Emile... This isn't funny."

His hand reaches out, gently tilting my chin up so I have no choice but to meet his gaze. "I'm not trying to be funny, Sara," he says, his voice soft but steady. There's an intensity in his hazel eyes that makes my heart do an unsteady flip-flop inside my chest. "I've never been more serious in my life. I know we come from different worlds, and it's confusing and messy, but I can't ignore how I feel."

I swallow hard, the world around me blurring at the edges. "But Emile, your career is just taking off. And my dad?—"

"I don't care," he interrupts, his voice firm yet gentle. "I don't care about the potential backlash or what anyone else thinks. I mean, I care about my career, obviously, but it doesn't mean I can't care about you too. And as for your dad… We'll handle that. I've faced tougher opponents on the ice. I can handle one man."

My heart hammers in my ears, and the only emotion I can manage is disbelief. He's saying all the right things, and my god, I desperately want them to be true. But at the same time, I'm waiting for the rest of the team to jump out and start laughing at me for being na?ve enough to think a rising star like Emile could feel this way about me. It's too much like a fairy tale, isn't it?

I shake my head and take a step back, putting distance between us. "We only just met, Emile. I'm planning on leaving Sugar City the moment I get a job offer. This... whatever this is, it can't go anywhere."

Emile's face falls just a fraction, but he doesn't let go of my gaze. "Then let's make the most of the time we have, Sara. Let's not overthink it. Just let it be…whatever it is." His voice breaks a little on the last few words. "If you leave…then at least we won't have any regrets."

"But…but…we're just friends." I step away again, but he steps closer, and his steps are bigger than mine so he's right in front of me, crowding my space.

"We're not friends."

I close my eyes. "Acquaintances then."

Emile's breath mingles with mine, and I can almost taste the celebratory drinks he had earlier, sweet and warm. "We're not acquaintances either, Sara," he whispers. "We're somewhere in between. In that messy, beautiful space where potential and reality meet."

I open my eyes, and before I even get the chance to respond, he's kissing me, his lips soft and insistent against mine. For a moment, I'm frozen, too shocked to respond. But then my body takes over, melting into him as I kiss him back with all the pent-up longing I've been trying to deny. Because as much as I've tried to convince myself this man could never want me, the fact his tongue is currently in my mouth seems to be proving me wrong.

When my brain manages to reboot, I find myself frantically grappling with the front of his leather jacket, my fingers curling into its worn softness as I pull him closer, desperate for more. As our tongues move together, heat pools low in my belly, and I realize just how much I've wanted this, how much I've needed this. My insides go from zero to combustion in seconds, and I cling to him like he's my anchor and I'll float away without him.

Suddenly, Emile lifts me up, pressing me against the closest wall. I gasp at the unexpected move but it's swallowed by his hungry mouth against mine. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist, exposing the ache between my thighs to his firm length.

"Can you feel what you do to me, Sara?" Emile grinds against me through the fabric of our jeans. "Does it feel like I only want to be your friend?"

My breath hitches as his words penetrate the haze of lust clouding my mind. "No," I manage to whisper against his lips. "It doesn't feel like friendship at all."

Emile's deep, throaty chuckle reverberates through his chest, pressing against mine. "I don't want to be your friend," he murmurs, his hands exploring the curves of my body as if trying to commit them to memory. "I want to be your everything." My heart pounds as I just observe him looking at my body in a way I never thought a man would, hungry, desperate. And while this doesn't feel like friendship, it doesn't feel real either.

I pull back slightly, trying to catch my breath and gather my thoughts. "Emile," I whisper, my voice trembling. "What are we doing here?"

He pauses, his intense eyes locking onto mine before a half smile kicks up one side of his mouth. "I think the plan was to grind up against you until you creamed yourself in your panties."

My cheeks flame, a mix of embarrassment and arousal surging through me at the raw honesty in Emile's words. "And after that?" I ask, my voice barely above a breath because I kind of like the sound of that.

"After that…I would have walked you back home and…we'd figure the rest out," he replies, his tone suddenly softer, more intimate. Emile's hands gently release their grip on me, allowing me to slide back down until my feet touch the ground, but his gaze never leaves mine.

I try to steady myself, my legs feeling like jelly after the intensity of our moment. "And what about now?"

"Now?"

"Now that the plan is ruined."

Emile's smile widens, and he brushes a stray hair away from my face, his touch lingering. "Nothing's ruined. We've got the rest of our lives ahead of us. I'm sure I'll make you cream your panties plenty."

His playful confidence makes me laugh, and I step back, needing a moment to think clearly. Emile watches me, his eyes narrowing slightly with concern.

"What's so funny?"

I take a deep breath, my cheeks still flushed as I try to articulate my thoughts. "It's just... you sound so sure of everything," I say, offering him a small, genuine smile. "And that scares me a little because I'm not used to feeling this way. I mean, not with anyone. This…" I pause and gesture between us. "This has never happened to me before."

Emile steps closer and leans down a little so he can study my expression. "What do you mean, it's never happened before?"

"This," I say, my voice shaking. "Us. It's all new to me." I look up at him, biting my lower lip. "I've never done anything like this, Emile."

His gaze softens, a hint of surprise lingering in his hazel eyes. "You mean you've never been in a relationship before?" he asks gently, his tone devoid of any judgment.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly feeling incredibly dry. "I…I haven't even been kissed before. I mean, well, now I have."

Emile's eyes widen a fraction, but he doesn't step back or stammer out an awkward response. Instead, his grip on my arm tightens and he gives me a small smile. "Well, aren't you full of wonderful surprises, Sara Belanger?"

The corners of my mouth twitch upward as I blush, feeling both embarrassed and relieved at his reaction. There's no mockery in his voice, only genuine warmth. He leans in closer, his breath tickling my ear as he whispers, "I'm glad I get to be your first for all of this."

He pulls me closer again, and this time it feels less frantic and more like a promise as he brushes his lips against mine in the softest of kisses.

"Come on, my little mouse. I'll walk you home."

"Little mouse?" I scoff, and he grins.

"Yeah. Because you're adorable and a little skittish. But all it took was one moment and I knew you were meant to be mine."