---
It wasn't supposed to be a moment. Not a real one, anyway.
Just a stupid, clumsy accident between two best friends in a messy living room with bad lighting and half-eaten snacks.
But it was. For me, at least.
It was the moment I realized I was in serious trouble.
---
Jogo's apartment was the usual disaster. Cozy chaos. Blankets tossed over chairs, soda cans lining the window ledge like forgotten soldiers, and a potted plant that had clearly seen better days.
We'd just finished another round of games—me victorious, obviously—and I was mid-victory monologue while he groaned like a wounded warrior, tossing the controller aside dramatically.
"Next round, I'm using the broken controller," he muttered.
"That's the spirit," I grinned, sprawling out on the couch. "Lose with dignity and a handicap."
He rolled his eyes, stood, and wandered off to grab more drinks. I didn't follow him with my eyes, but I didn't not follow him either. That hoodie he wore—the one I left here forever ago—hung perfectly off his shoulders, and every step he took stirred something low and warm in my stomach.
He came back with two cans of soda, and I reached forward to grab mine.
Too far.
"Whoa—Mina—"
Too late.
I tripped over the edge of a blanket, my foot snagging just wrong. He lunged to catch me, and the next second was a blur of limbs, gravity, and panic.
We fell. Hard.
And my mouth landed right on his.
---
I froze.
Our lips pressed together—not soft, not slow, just a fast, accidental collision—but it happened. Warm. Real.
And worse? Good.
For one long, held breath, we didn't move.
Then his hands gripped my waist to steady me.
Correction: lower than my waist.
I felt it before I processed it—his hands splayed full over the curve of my ass, strong fingers flexing instinctively like he was bracing me.
My entire body tensed.
He jerked his hands back instantly, eyes wide. "Shit—I didn't—sorry, I didn't mean—"
I scrambled upright, face burning. "It's fine! I mean—I fell on you, you were just—grabbing whatever you could to—stop me from—yeah."
He coughed. "Right. Just reflex."
"Totally reflex."
Silence.
Hot. Awkward. Buzzing silence.
---
He rubbed the back of his neck and gave me a crooked, embarrassed smile. "You okay?"
"Physically? Fine. Mentally? Melting into the floor."
"Not your most graceful move."
"You're one to talk." I smirked. "You grabbed my ass, Jogo."
"I was trying to catch you!" he groaned, dragging a hand over his face. "You fell! On my face! Your mouth was—" He stopped. His ears turned red. "God, you kissed me."
"You kissed me!"
We both blinked at each other. Then laughed—high-pitched, nervous, breathless.
It should've eased the tension. Should've made everything feel normal again.
It didn't.
---
We sat beside each other on the couch, pretending like our mouths hadn't just collided and his hands hadn't just gotten way too familiar.
But my skin still buzzed.
My lips still tingled.
And my brain? Yeah. She was running screaming in circles.
Because for all the weird, clumsy chaos of it…
I liked it.
More than I wanted to admit.
Way more than a best friend should.
And when I glanced over and caught him sneaking a look at me—face pink, fingers twitching—I knew something had shifted.
We crossed a line.
Maybe we could laugh it off. Pretend it didn't mean anything.
But my body knew better.
So did his.
---
I played it cool. Made a dumb joke. Brushed his knee with mine like it was nothing.
But inside? I was combusting.
Because now I'd kissed Jogo.
He'd grabbed my ass.
And I couldn't stop thinking about how good it felt.
Which meant one very important thing:
I was so screwed.
---
The moment passed.
Kind of.
I peeled myself off him with a laugh that cracked a little too high, swiping hair out of my face like I hadn't just practically made out with my best friend by accident. Well—half made out. The fall had sent our mouths brushing. Just a second, just a flinch of lips, but my brain had looped it ten thousand times already.
He didn't mention it. Not the fall. Not the almost-kiss. Definitely not the hand thing.
Which meant he either didn't notice… or he was doing the thing.
The thing where he pretended it didn't matter, because it shouldn't. Because we were just friends.
"I'll grab you a new soda," Jogo said, standing up, voice way too casual.
"Right. Thanks," I said, sitting stiffly on the couch like a malfunctioning mannequin.
He walked off into the kitchen. I stared at the ceiling and tried to convince myself not to spontaneously combust.
I'd ruined everything.
Except… had I?
Because he hadn't pushed me away. He hadn't made it weird. He hadn't done anything except laugh and check if I was okay.
But it was in the way he looked at me.
Like maybe I wasn't just the girl who kicked his butt at Mario Kart.
Maybe—just maybe—he'd felt something too.
---
By the time we finally called it a night, I was buzzing. With adrenaline. With hope. With sheer chaotic panic.
He yawned as he stretched, shirt riding up just a bit, flashing skin that definitely wasn't helping my overthinking spiral.
"You good?" he asked.
I nodded too quickly. "Yep. Just… tired."
"Guest room's all yours."
"Actually—"
The word popped out before I could stop it.
He raised a brow. "Yeah?"
"I was thinking… uh, maybe I could crash in your room tonight?"
Silence.
Not suspicious silence. Just surprised.
"You okay?" he asked again, softer this time. "Bad dreams last time or something?"
I shrugged, forcing a casual smile. "Nah. Just cold. Your room's warmer."
It was a garbage excuse. But technically true. His room was warmer. And it had him in it. Which right now, unfortunately, was exactly what my dumb heart wanted.
He hesitated, then nodded. "Sure. Take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor."
"No, that's— You don't have to—"
"Mina."
That tone. That smile. That no-arguing kind of voice he used when he was being sweet and firm.
"I've got extra pillows. I'll be fine."
I swallowed the weird disappointment. "Right. Cool."
---
His room was dark and smelled like eucalyptus and something else—clean linen and boy. I sat on the edge of the bed, watching him lay out a blanket on the floor. His shirt hung loose around his shoulders. I shouldn't have stared. I did anyway.
"You okay up there?" he asked without turning.
"Yeah," I murmured. "Just thinking."
"About the game?"
"...Sure."
He chuckled, dimming the light. "Don't worry. I'll win next time."
I laid down, pulling the covers up.
Next to me, the floor creaked as he settled into his makeshift bed.
"Night, Mina."
"Night, Jogo."
A beat passed.
Then I whispered into the dark:
"Thanks for catching me earlier."
His voice came back, low and warm.
"Always."
---
But I didn't sleep for hours.
Because the memory of his lips brushing mine kept playing.
Because the way his hands had felt on my waist lingered like a phantom.
Because I was one accidental kiss away from falling completely, and worst of all—
I didn't think it was an accident anymore.
Not really.
Not for me.
---