The Only Exception

10. Ugliest Emotion

Asi stepped in first, flipping on the soft hall light. Her face was still pale, lips a little chapped from the cold, but she looked... steady. Or trying to be.

She walked in, already tugging her hoodie up and over her head, revealing a simple black tank top underneath. Her skin was flushed pink from the heated air inside, the contrast from the crisp November chill outside. She ran a hand through her curls and let out a tired sigh, as if hoping the night might fall off her with her clothes.

Alaz followed, closing the door behind them. The click of it shutting seemed louder than usual.

He shrugged off his long black coat, fingers working slower than necessary. He didn't want to break the silence first. Not yet. Not when her silence felt so loaded.

Asi stepped to the coat rack at the same time he did.

The space between them was small — intimate, barely a breath.

Alaz, taller, reached up to hang his coat just as Asi reached to hang her hoodie. In the motion, his hand brushed against hers — just lightly. Skin on skin.

A static jolt passed through both of them.

Asi flinched slightly, not in fear — in recognition.

She turned, slowly, instinctively, and there she was — trapped.

Her back brushed the hallway wall.

Alaz, standing before her, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin.

She looked up.

His face was inches from hers. Hair mussed from the cold, lips still slightly chapped, eyes searching — like he was already half-lost in her and just waiting for permission to drown.

He leaned a little closer.

And said, low, warm, velvet-smooth—

"Hi there."

It was almost a whisper. A smile played at the corners of his mouth, but it wasn't cocky — it was hungry.

Asi's breath caught.

God, she thought. He's too hot. This wasn't fair. How could she think clearly when he looked like this? When he smelled like late night and something dark and piney and familiar?

She could feel the wall at her back. Him in front of her. Her body buzzing like it remembered the kiss all over again, even if her mind was screaming for logic.

She put her hand gently on his chest, fingertips brushing the fabric of his sweater.

"Alaz..." she said, barely audible.

He stopped moving. "Yeah?"

Her heart was pounding. Her face burned. But she had to say it.

"The thing that happened before..." she began, eyes lowering to his chest — anywhere but his eyes.

"What thing?" he asked. His voice was quieter now.

She looked up at him then. Met his gaze. "The kiss."

He didn't flinch.

But he didn't breathe either.

"The kiss," she repeated, like saying it softer would make it easier. "It was... a mistake."

That word.

Mistake.

It landed like a brick between them.

Alaz's face didn't change immediately. It was too much to register all at once. But slowly, slowly, you could see it — the drop in his expression. The flicker of something closing behind his eyes.