We take the long way back.
Neither of us says it aloud, but it’s obvious. The path behind the east dorms winds around the small garden grove, its benches tucked between bare trees and half-frozen flowers.
Noah slows when we reach the quietest part of it — a sun-dappled alcove shielded from view — and turns to face me fully.
His eyes search mine, cautious but open.
“I know what’s coming,” he says. “And I don’t want to go into it wondering.”
I don’t have to ask what he means. His hand brushes mine, fingers barely touching. His familiar warmth reaches for mine. And then he leans in. It’s not sudden. Not demanding. Just a gentle press of lips. Warm. Steady. Honest.
My hand rests lightly on his chest, and, for a second, I let myself feel it, his heartbeat under my palm, the quiet exhale of breath between us.
But something in me doesn’t reach back. I pull away slowly and carefully.
And Noah — being Noah — doesn’t ask why.
He just nods. “You don’t have to say it,” he says softly.
There’s no pain in his voice. No bitterness. Just a softness that almost breaks me.
“I wanted to be sure,” I whisper.
He gives me a crooked smile. “So did I.”
A beat of silence.
Then he adds, “You don’t need to apologize for not feeling anything for me.”
Tears prick my eyes, but I blink them back. “I do love you. Just… not like that.”
“I know that too.”
He squeezes my hand once, then lets go.
We start walking again.
And though something closes quietly between us, something else settles. Respect. Clarity.
34 FINALLY
The sun is lower when we make it back to the dorms, brushing the tops of the windows with fading gold. Noah and I walk in step, quiet but at ease now, the kind of silence that doesn’t need to be filled.
As we round the corner toward the front entrance, I spot a familiar figure leaning against the rail just outside the lobby doors, hoodie up, sleeves pushed up, a lollipop tucked in the corner of his mouth like it’s a cigar.
Luca.
Of course.
He glances up when he sees us and smirks like he’s been waiting all day just to say something dumb.
“Look who finally emerged from their walk of feelings,” he drawls.
Noah snorts, unfazed. “Don’t be weird.”
“I’m always weird. It’s part of my charm.”
Noah gives me a sidelong glance. “I’m heading up. You good?”
