Page 51 of Hold the Line

Across the room, near the big Christmas tree, Damian, Viktor, and Marina are quietly setting up the presents. I catch glimpses of them between laughs — Viktor carefully placing boxes, his mother arranging cookies on a plate, Damian saying something low that makes both of them nod. Viktor looks… calmer there. Steady. But every time our eyes meet across the room, that little pull in my chest tightens again.

I force myself to focus back on the game, laughing louder than necessary when Jace loses another round and has to take a shot. The rookies are wide-eyed and delighted to be included, and Shane is in full chaos gremlin mode. It helps. The noise helps. But every few minutes my eyes drift back to Viktor, watching the way he moves around his mother with that careful, protective energy, and the worry settles heavier in my gut.

We get drunk enough that the line between chaos and total anarchy completely disappears. Elias, already three drinks deep and feeling festive, starts full-on flirting with Damian right there at the table — batting his lashes, calling him “Coach” in that sultry voice he knows drives Damian insane, leaning into his husband’s space. “You know, babe, you look really hot when you’re trying to be all stern and responsible…”

Damian sighs, but there is a fond twitch at the corner of his mouth. He lasts about thirty seconds before he caves, pushing his chair back and joining the game with a gruff, “Fine. But if any of you idiots puke on my floor, you’re cleaning it up.”

The game somehow turns into Truth or Dare within two rounds. Shane is the one who suggests it, of course, his eyes sparkling with pure evil as he points at Elias. “Truth or dare, Captain?”

Elias grins like a menace. “Dare.”

And just like that, the night descends into beautiful, ridiculous madness. Dares get increasingly stupid — Jace has to do his best impression of Damian yelling at us during practice, Mats has to sing a Christmas song in the worst Russian accent he can manage, and I end up having to call Zara and tell her I love her in the most dramatic way possible while trying not to laugh. Truths get messier too, secrets and embarrassing stories spilling out between shots and laughter.

Viktor is still sitting a little ways away with his mother and Roman, but every time I look over, his eyes are on me. I keep grinning at him, trying to pull him into the chaos with just a look, but I can still feel that small distance between us. It makes my chest ache even through the warm buzz of alcohol.

Elias, noticing me glancing over again, leans in close during a lull in the game. “You sure you’re good, Hollywood?” he asks, the captain voice slipping through the drunk haze for a second.

I flash him a bright grin, the same one I always use when I don't want to talk about it. “Never better, Curls. Now dare me to do something stupid before Shane makes me call Zara again.”

He laughs, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me. I don’t blame him. I am not sure I believe myself right now either. He turns to me with that feral grin and says, “Cole. Truth or dare.”

I already know I am in trouble. “Dare.”

His eyebrow shoots up. “Go kiss Viktor. Right now. In front of everyone.”

I freeze. “Curls…”

Elias just raises that damn eyebrow higher, the one that says you asked for this. I sigh, dramatic and defeated, and push my chair back. “Fine.”

The walk across the room feels longer than it should. Viktor is still over by the tree with his mother and Roman. I stop in front of them, heart hammering, and turn to Marina first, giving her my best apologetic pout. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” I say, cheeks already burning. Then I lean down and kiss Viktor.

He freezes for a split second — I feel it in the way his shoulders tense under my hand — but then he kisses me back, soft and quick, like he can't help himself. It's over too fast. He breaks it first, turning back to his mother and Roman like nothing happened, continuing their conversation as if I had not just kissed him in front of half the team.

Marina looks up at me, frowning a little, then at her son. She is clearly picking up on the tension.

I drop into the chair next to Elias, ignoring the way my chest aches, and immediately point at Mats. “Truth or dare.”

Mats startles, nearly spilling his drink. “Uh… dare?”

I lean forward, smirking. “Go steal the vodka Viktor brought. It’s currently sitting between the only three Russians in the house.”

Mats glares at me hard enough to melt steel. I just smirk wider, knowing exactly the kind of trouble I just pushed him into. Viktor’s mother is right there. Lena is hovering near that side of the room. This is going to be glorious.

Mats groans, but he stands up anyway, muttering curses under his breath as he starts walking over in the sneakiest way possible. I watch with pure delight, expecting him to try something ridiculous. Instead, he goes straight for Lena.

He leans in close to her, saying something low that makes her actually blush — Lena, my sister, who doesn't blush easily. From this distance it doesn't even look like he's pretending. Mats leans even closer, one arm snaking smoothly around her waist as he reaches behind her for the vodka bottle. Then, bold as brass, he kisses her on the cheek, grabs the bottle, and turns back toward the table with the smuggest grin I have ever seen on his face.

Lena is left standing there staring after him, cheeks pink, looking equal parts surprised and something else I do not want to examine too closely.

“You absolute traitor!” I shout across the room as Mats saunters back, holding the bottle like a trophy. The team explodes into laughter and cheers. Elias is howling. Shane is slapping the table. Even some of the rookies are losing it.

Mats just winks at me as he sits down, setting the vodka in the middle of the table. “Your dare, Hollywood. I delivered.”

I flip him off, still glaring, but I can't stop the laugh that bubbles up despite myself.

“Rivera!” Viktor’s voice booms across the room like thunder, deep and commanding. Mats freezes mid-step, bottle still in hand, looking like he just got caught stealing from the principal’s office. I smirk triumphantly, leaning back in my chair with pure satisfaction.

“Turn your ass back around and put that bottle where you found it before I come get it myself,” Viktor says.