She took a step closer, her other hand still clasped around mine, her enthusiasm radiating between us. The space between our bodies felt smaller. I swallowed, suddenly a little unsteady.
“Being back in the classroom reminded me of my passions,” I admitted, my voice quieter now. “I think it’s time for some new goals.”
Macey’s expression softened, her fingers trailing up to my face as she pressed a warm palm to my cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”
Her touch was gentle but grounding, like she knew exactlyhow much this meant to me without me having to say it. I leaned into her hand instinctively, caught in the moment, caught in her.
And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, she lifted onto her toes, closing the last bit of distance between us.
Our lips met in a kiss that was soft and unhurried. The only thought left in my head wasfinally.
19
MACEY
The Burrow Bitches
Britney: wait, you haven’t slept together yet?
Macey: Nope.
Ariadne: It’s a fake relationship, Brit.
Britney: so? i bet he’s really good at it
Macey: I bet he is, too
Macey: …Not that I’ve thought about it
Kira: Me thinks the lady doth protest too much
If I had a nickel for every time I found myself spontaneously entering the apartment of the guy I was fake dating, I’d have three nickels. Which wasn’t going to pay for anything, but it wasstill a lot.
“I’m surprised,” I commented as Noah flipped the grilled cheese in the pan with precise accuracy.
He pressed the spatula on top of the bread. “About?”
“That someone as fit as you puts three types of cheese in their grilled cheese.”
Smile on his face, he turned down the heat on the burner. “One isn’t enough. Neither is two. Also, this is one of the few dishes I can make well, so I like to add as much pizzazz as I can.”
I sat at the kitchen island—because of course his apartment kitchen had one—and glanced out the tiny window. Translucent yellow curtains covered it, and the tiny opening brought in just enough wind to make them flutter.
I needed the chill the wind brought me, after feeling all the warmth from our kiss.
“Did your mom teach you?”
“No.” He plated the sandwich, setting it on the island next to me. I wasn’t surprised he was making himself food, considering he hardly ate at Sushi Nirvana. Two glasses of water appeared next. “Daphne did.”
He took a bite and white cheese dripped out one side of the bread. “Really?”
“It’s her favorite thing to eat, and she was determined that I learn how to do it before I went to college. After Mom died, it was all we ate for like, a month. That and sympathy casseroles.”
Something squeezed inside my chest. My heart, probably.
I conjured a mental image: a twenty-one-year-old Noah running after his fourteen-year-old sister, trying to feed her grilled cheese sandwiches and make sure she did her homework before bed. Picking up whatever work he could to have extra cash after the bills were paid. Questioning why so many people liked his photos on social media.
Noah Hansley, who months ago spoke to me exclusively in sarcastic comments, now offered me parts of himself that Idoubted he had offered anyone else. They sat heavy on me like a key in my pocket, something hidden in plain sight that I touched every few minutes to remember it was there.
