I let him wipe me down carefully, even when it makes me squirm, my mind trying to catalog every careful touch as if it might be snatched away.
By the time he’s done, my body feels loose again, like the last of the tension dissolved with every tender touch.
“You okay?” he asks, thumb brushing over my hip.
I nod, throat thick. Nobody’s ever made me feel like this—not just wanted, but worth lingering over. The thought makes something proud flare in me—I let him in, I wanted him, I made the first move and I didn’t break. But the pride is tangled with doubt that comes as quickly. Why would someone like Noah choose this? Chooseme?
I curl my toes against the cold tiles, grounding myself, trying to quiet the whisper that he’ll realize I’m not worth the effort.
I nod again, nose stinging, overwhelmed by the moment. “Yeah. I… like this.”
Noah’s grin is pleased as he presses a kiss to my lips. “Good. Because I like it too, and I don’t intend to stop.”
The thought of him choosing to do this every time, to take care of me, settles deep. It makes me feel treasured. But it’s also terrifying. I want to believe him, even as that other voice hisses that it won’t last, that I’m not enough. I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
When I look at him again, he’s already watching me. Not in the sharp way Kyle used to, not like he’s looking for flaws. The look is so open, like he wants to see all the parts of me. My fingers twitch restlessly at my sides, itching to fidget with something, to touch my scar, but I breathe through it.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I mutter, feeling shy because of show warm it makes me feel.
“Like what?” His voice is playful but careful.
“Like I’m…” Words fail me. Worth something. Worth him. They’re too heavy to say.
“Perfect?” he offers.
The word is sweet and painful at once, scraping against every scar left behind. A wet, disbelieving laugh slips out of me.
Perfect is a word for someone else—someone who can be happy every day. Someone easy. Someone like Noah.
“I’m not…” My voice breaks, and the sound is ugly. I’m not perfect. I’m too much and not enough all at once. Messy. Nervous. Scarred—inside and out. If he knew how dark my thoughts get some days, how small I can make myself, maybe he wouldn’t look at me like that.
Noah’s expression shifts, teasing gone, and he reaches up to cradle my face. His thumb strokes under my cheekbone, gently holding me in place so I can’t look away.
“You are to me, Gabe,” he says, voice sure. “Always have been. Always will be.”
My throat goes tight again as my eyes sting. The words hit where it’s raw and tender, and it feels like they could split me wide open. I want to tell him he’s wrong, that I’ll mess this up somehow, that perfect isn’t something I’ll ever be—but all that comes out is a shaky exhale.
I let him hold my face until the worst of the feelings pass, until I feel like me again. I tuck his words somewhere safe, even if I don’t believe them yet—maybe I never will. But for now, I let myself bask in the way he says it, like he’s not just stating a fact but a promise, too.
We stay like that until the buzzing in my body settles. Then he nudges my arm, smirking lightly. “Come on. Kitchen raid.”
I shake my head, biting back a grin. “Oreos?”
“Oreos,” he promises, holding out a hand.
I take it without hesitation.
26
NOAH
Needle & Vein is the exact vibe I expect from Theo: stark black walls filled with colorful graphic art and sketch prints. It’s industrial but bright.
He’s bent over his station, working on someone’s arm when we come in, dark hair flopping over his face. For a moment, I don’t think he’s noticed us—until he speaks without looking up.
“Be with you in a few, just finishing up a dick pic here,” Theo calls out.
Aiden snorts. “Yeah, sure. It’s just us anyway.”
