BGM Suggestions:
Rhye – "Open" (perfect for the slow tension)
Labrinth – "Forever" (gentle, aching build-up)
Frédéric Chopin – "Raindrop Prelude" (background mood for that final near-kiss)
"She stood barefoot in the moonlight—laughing, her smile soaked in sea breeze.He almost kissed her.Almost."
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At the buffet, the moment the waiter tried to explain the layout, the team had already scattered in all directions.
But one glance from Celeste, and the entire squad froze like kids caught sneaking snacks. The waiter blinked in awe.
After the instructions were done, everyone sprinted off. Celeste strolled instead, picking up a few hot dishes and desserts she was used to. No raw marinated seafood, no ginger duck. A little disappointing.
Just as she sat down, the waiter returned—with a tray of dishes she hadn't ordered.Ginger duck. Raw marinated crab. And a steaming pot of brown sugar ginger tea.
She blinked. "Okay, which one of you—"She laughed, already assuming. "It has to be my dear brother. Only Jett would know I—"
"Nope," Jett cut her off with a smirk, gesturing toward Nolan. "He beat me to it this time."
She turned to Nolan. Her eyes twinkled. "How did you know I wanted this today?"
He looked completely calm. "It's not just today."
Celeste gave a soft little gasp. "Too thoughtful. I swear, I'm getting spoiled." She dug in, happily chewing away.
And Nolan just watched her with a quiet softness. She looked relaxed—really relaxed—for the first time in days. Like the tension had finally let go.
When someone suggested going out for drinks, the coach politely declined.So did Nolan and Celeste.
Jett caught her eye and, with unspoken understanding, offered to take the others.
Back in the room, the second she stepped inside, Celeste made a beeline for the balcony. The sliding doors opened with a soft shhhk, and a gust of sea breeze poured in—salty, damp, cool against the warmth of the hotel AC.
She stepped barefoot onto the deck. The wooden floor was still warm from the day, but the air had cooled. She stretched her arms high over her head, shirt riding up just enough to reveal the gentle curve of her waist.
She tilted her head back and shouted toward the ocean, "It's so beautiful!"
Nolan heard her before he saw her.
In that moment, the moonlight turned her skin to porcelain, glowing faintly. Her hair lifted gently with the wind, her lips catching light like they were kissed by silver.
And suddenly, he couldn't breathe right.
He wanted—desperately—to walk up, wrap his arms around her, press his mouth to the smile she wore so freely.
But he didn't.
He lowered his head. Swallowed the heat in his throat. And spoke evenly, "You like it here?"
She turned to him, eyes sparkling. "I love it. Thank you."
That smile—it did something to him.
He stepped closer, glancing at her bare feet before looking into her eyes. His voice, softer than usual, almost fond:
"Noticed you were favoring that ankle… so I made a little booking for you. No pressure, just when you feel like it."
Her eyes widened slightly. "You noticed?"
"You don't always say it," he said. "But I see things."
She leaned on the railing with a quiet laugh. "You really take care of us. Me especially."
She said it simply, but it hit deeper than she knew.
Nolan didn't answer right away. He just looked at her, remembering that earlier smile—the one she gave the sea, thinking no one was watching.
She stepped closer and tapped his arm lightly, breaking the spell. "Look over there. It looks totally different at night, doesn't it?"
The breeze lifted her hair, brushing across his hand.And for a second, his fingers twitched.
She didn't know how dangerous that little movement was. Didn't know how close he was to pulling her in—just for a second, just for a kiss.
She also didn't expect how close he was standing. She could smell his scent—like fine cologne: woodsy, crisp, with a note that made her want to stay a little longer.
And in his eyes… something unspoken. Like he wanted to say more. Like he couldn't.
Somewhere in the distance, the hotel had begun playing Chopin's Raindrop Prelude. The music drifted through the air, soft and steady, like a heartbeat.
She didn't mean to look at his lips.
He didn't mean to lean in that extra inch.
But then he pulled back. Just a breath.
"Good night," he said softly.
He walked out the door.
But his hand paused on the frame for just a second.
He knew he was gambling.
Gambling that she wouldn't follow. Gambling that he could still hold back.
Celeste leaned on the balcony, the music washing over her. That simple "good night" still lingered like it had been pressed right against her chest—warm, weightless, impossible to ignore.
She pushed her hair behind her ear. Only then did she realize—her cheeks were flushed.
And outside the door, Nolan paused. Smiled faintly to himself.
"Almost didn't stop," he whispered.