Kiss Me Like You Never Left

"Don't fucking say anything," Jude hissed, the words barely escaping through his teeth as he watched Yon and the stranger weave through the crowded basement.

Klaus let out a muffled yelp of excitement, his face flushed with more than just the warmth of the room. "I won't! I swear. Oh, shit, they’re coming over. You can do this, Jud. Don’t lose it, I’ve got your back."

Jude felt a surge of panic that made his knees weak. He snatched his red cup from a nearby ledge and took a desperate mouthful of the stale beer, grimacing as it burned his throat. He needed to look busy, look normal, but his pulse was thundering in his ears like a drum.

"Hey, guys," Yon said, pulling the dark-haired stranger into their small circle. "These are some of the guys on the team. Klaus is in my year, and Jude is the freshman I was telling you about."

The stranger’s eyes were green—a startling, vibrant shade that seemed to cut right through the hazy party atmosphere. He took Klaus's hand first, offering a casual nod. Then, he turned to Jude.

"This is Malachi," Yon explained. "He used to be on my team in high school."

"That’s quite a name," Malachi said, his voice smooth and rich, carrying an easy warmth that sent a jolt straight to Jude’s chest. He extended a hand, his lips curling into a perfect, effortless smile. "Jude," he repeated, letting the name roll off his tongue as if he were testing the weight of it.

"My mom liked the book," Jude blurted out.

He blinked, immediately wanting the floor to swallow him whole. Why on earth had he said that? There was zero context, no lead-in, just a random fact about his mother’s literary tastes as his opening line.

Malachi didn't laugh, though. He just nodded slowly, snapping his fingers. "Jude Finch," he said, pointing at him with a glimmer of recognition. "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius."

The shock of pleasant surprise was so intense that Jude actually forgot to be embarrassed for a second. He nodded quickly, and Malachi’s smile widened, showing just a hint of teeth. Jude knew he was supposed to smile back—it was the human thing to do—but he was fairly certain his face was currently frozen in a mask of mild terror.

"What position did you play?" Klaus asked, jumping in to save the silence.

Malachi’s hands drifted into his pockets, his shoulders relaxed. "Middle blocker."

"And you came here? Why aren't you playing for the university?" Klaus pushed.

Malachi shrugged, a casual movement that drew Jude's eyes to the breadth of his shoulders. "Lost interest, I guess."

Jude’s brow furrowed. How did someone just lose interest in volleyball? Especially someone who looked like they were built for the net. He glanced at Klaus, who was giving him a significant look that basically said say something, you idiot.

"Shame," Klaus said, shaking his head. "Look, I’m getting another round. You want one, Yon?"

"I'll help," Yon offered, already moving.

"Oh, no," Jude whispered, but it was too late.

Klaus grabbed the bottom of Jude’s cup and tipped it toward his mouth, forcing him to take another swallow before he could protest. Then, Klaus turned to Malachi with a wink. "You know, that’s just his face. He’s not actually unfriendly. We’ll be right back."

Jude’s eyes went wide with mortification as his friends vanished into the crowd. He stood there, clutching his cup, suddenly alone with the man he’d been drooling over two minutes ago.

"You had a good game today, I hear," Malachi said.

Up close, he smelled subtly intoxicating—a mix of fresh soap and something woodsy, like cedar or sandalwood. It was clean, masculine, and completely overwhelming. Jude found himself fighting the urge to lean in just an inch closer.

"We won," Jude said. He immediately felt like a moron. Of course they won; Malachi had just said it was a good game.

Malachi chuckled, the sound low and pleasant. "Yeah, I heard. So, you're a freshman and already the regular setter? That's impressive."

"I've been playing my whole life," Jude said, trying to deflect. He felt the heat in his cheeks again and coughed to cover it. "The regular setter graduated last year. The backup wasn't as fast, so I got the spot."

"Yeah, David's better at blocking anyway," Malachi noted.

Jude paused, his mind spinning. "That’s right. He’s tall. Wait... how do you know that? You've been following the team?"

"I just don't want to be on it. Plus, David's a friend of mine," Malachi explained. He stepped back a fraction, eyeing Jude’s frame. "You're pretty tall too. What are you? Six-three?"

"Six-two," Jude corrected.

Malachi just stood there for a beat, looking at Jude with an unreadable expression. Jude prayed his face wasn't doing that "scary" thing Klaus was always complaining about.

"You don't look so scary to me," Malachi said softly.

Jude blinked, puzzled. "What?"

Malachi just smiled, the green of his eyes bright even in the dim light. Before Jude could respond, Yon and Klaus reappeared, sliding a fresh cup into Jude’s hand and taking the empty one.

"You should come to practice sometime," Yon said, leaning into the conversation. "You don't have to join the roster, but wouldn't you want to play a bit anyway? For fun?"

Jude looked at Malachi, his heart doing a strange, hopeful flip. He didn't realize his expression had shifted, his lips drawing into a rare, genuine smile at the thought of seeing Malachi on the court.

"Sure, I can play," Malachi said. He turned back to Jude, his gaze locking on. "Would you toss for me?"

Jude’s heart didn't just flip; it contracted. The idea of setting for Malachi, of watching him fly toward a ball he had placed perfectly... it was too much. He couldn't get the words past the lump in his throat, so he just nodded fervently.

Malachi’s smile broadened into something truly stunning. "Thanks for the beer," he said, lifting his cup toward Yon. "I have to head out. It was nice meeting you. Seeing you," he added, his eyes lingering on Jude for a fraction of a second longer.

"Sure thing, see you around," Klaus said, shooting Jude a look that was practically a physical shove.

"Same, man. I'm calling you out for that game," Yon replied, giving Malachi a quick side-hug.

Jude bit his lip, the silence stretching. Klaus cleared his throat loudly.

"Nice to meet you too," Jude stammered, the words finally tumbling out.

Malachi gave one last nod, a final flash of those green eyes, and then he was walking away. Jude watched the back of his head, the way his hair was messy even from behind, as he pushed through the throng of people toward the exit.

"God, even the nape of his neck is attractive," Jude whispered, not realizing he’d said it out loud until Klaus let out a snort.

"He was a great player," Yon said, looking toward the door where Malachi had disappeared.

Jude shook himself out of his daze. "Why did he quit? If he was that good, why stop?"

"His dad got sick right before we graduated high school," Yon explained, his voice losing its festive edge. "He started here last year and he was already really messed up. I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't listen to anyone. His dad passed away last winter."

The news hit Jude like a physical blow. He looked back at the door, but Malachi was long gone. The easy smile, the forest scent, the casual way he’d talked about "losing interest"—it was all a mask.

"That's awful," Jude said quietly.

"Yeah," Yon sighed. "He’s been a bit of a ghost lately. That’s why I was so surprised to see him here tonight. Maybe he’s finally coming back around."

"He asked Jude to toss for him," Klaus pointed out, his eyes gleaming again. "That’s a big deal, right?"

Jude didn't answer. He just looked down at his cup, the bitter beer suddenly forgotten. He thought about Malachi’s eyes, the way they had looked at him, and the grief that must be hidden behind them. He’d come to this party wanting nothing more than to leave, but now, all he could think about was the next time he’d see the guy with the messy hair.

"We should go," Jude said. "Practice is at eight."

"Look at him! One conversation with a pretty boy and he's more dedicated than ever," Klaus teased.

Jude didn't even snap back. He just started walking toward the door, his mind already on the gym, the ball, and the chance to see if he could actually make Malachi smile again.