Classy.
Really classy.
Personally, I find it a little tacky.
But that’s not really the point.
The point is, I’ve been here before.
I dated an athlete once.
Thought I was in love.
Thought he felt the same way.
And that story ended badly.
Mostly for me.
So whatever this thing between Noah and me is?
It’s temporary.
It has to be.
I can’t let myself believe anything else.
And I’m so freaking mad at myself, it’s not funny.
This is exactly the kind of situation I promised myself I would never get pulled into again.
I know I should do the smart thing.
Find my backbone.
Tell him this was a mistake.
Ask him to leave.
Because I absolutely cannot be falling in love with Noah Walker.
“Open,” he says.
I blink.
He’s holding a dumpling up to my mouth like this is the most normal thing in the world.
Without thinking, I open my mouth, and he feeds it to me.
Feeds.It.To.Me.
The dumpling is perfect.
Warm.
Savory.
Dangerously delicious.
