But now… my chest feels tight.
What if he’s been waiting this whole time—expecting me to show up, to explain myself, to wantmore?What if he took my silence as hesitation… not rejection?
And why the hell am I even thinking about this? It was just a crush. A fleeting obsession. That’s it. Nothing more.
So why does seeing him again feel like standing on the edge of a cliff?
God. Please. Don’t let this get messy.
“Well, hello there!”
Elijah’s voice cuts straight through the tension as he strides forward, all charm and confidence, hand extended.
I slap mine against my chest—for Chris’s sake.
“We haven’t officially met, but I recognize you from my building. I’m Elijah. You were incredible tonight.”
I grit my teeth as he keeps going, praising the performance, complimenting him on his talent, acting like the perfect gentleman with maddening ease. Then, without missing a beat, he laces his fingers through mine like it’s second nature.
Well. There’s your answer, Noah.
I’mdefinitelynot here alone.
But if he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. In fact, he looks calmer than I feel.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” he says, offering a small, composed smile. “I’m Noah.”
A flash goes off in the distance, and I whirl around.
Shit.
Another flash—closer this time—and I spin back, pulse kicking up. It’s just my luck that someone recognized me. It’s not that I don’t adore my fans; I actually enjoy meeting them. But tonight, I just wanted to be with Elijah with no interruptions.
“And this here is Alex,” Elijah says beside me, still beaming like nothing’s off. “Though… it seems like you two have already met?”
His eyes flick between us, quick, sharp, a little too curious, and for the life of me, I can’t come up with a single damn thing to say.
“Y-yes, we have,” Noah stammers, just as the crowd noise swells and more camera flashes explode around us.
I pretend not to notice, though I can feel the eyes—dozens of them—landing on me all at once. Still, I keep my focus on Noah.
“I’m… um… just waiting for my ride,” he says, glancing toward the street, scanning the traffic like it might save him. His voice is polite, but strained. He’s looking for an exit. Trying to escape the awkward tension.
Honestly? So am I.
But, of course, Elijah decides to toss gasoline onto the awkward.
He reaches out, clasps Noah’s slender shoulder, and gives it a squeeze.
“Let us give you a lift,” he offers, smooth as ever. “We’re all headed to the same place, after all, sí?”
Noah’s calm flickers. Panic dives into his eyes as he turns to me, searching—for what, I’m not sure. Permission? An out?
For fuck’s sake,do something.
I rake a hand through my hair and drop my gaze to the pavement. “We’d be happy to give you a ride,” I mumble, the words tasting like regret before they’ve even left my mouth.
But I say them anyway. Because the cameras are getting closer.
