My head falls back against the sofa, eyes tracing the wooden beams that run across the ceiling.Eleven breaths, Alex. Eleven breaths.
I count them out, slow—slower than usual.
When I finally lift my head, Noah’s watching me—his eyes locked on my lips.
Christ, I want to kiss him.
I remember the first time I did—months ago at Gravity.That night, I saw Elijah and Gabriel together. Rage in my throat,alcohol on my mind. I went searching for something to burn it out.
Got drunk. Got distracted. And I kissed him.
Noah.
For a second, I can almost taste that night again—the heat of it, the blur of his breath against mine. Kissing him had felt like injecting something dangerous straight into my bloodstream. Instant addiction. And if I’m being honest… I still haven’t kicked the habit.
Now left alone with him, I finally let myself look—reallylook—the way I’d wanted to earlier. His slim-cut sweatshirt clings just right, tapering at the waist and riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin above the waistband of his jeans. A flash of vulnerability.
“I was hoping to see you again,” he whispers, his voice low and careful.
He’s talking about that night. The keycard hidden underneath a napkin. The unspoken invitation I never answered.
“Noah…”
My head dips, guilt settling in like a weight across my shoulders. I hadn’t intended to lead him on. Not really. But that doesn’t make it better. Doesn’t make it right.
“I wanted to see you too,” I admit, the shame catching in my throat, threading through every word. And it’s the truth.
God, it’s the truth.
In the background, Elijah’s voice drifts from the kitchen—still chatting with Gabriel. The sound is light, distant, almost ordinary. I turn toward it, just briefly… then look back at Noah.
“I really fucking wanted to.”
His eyes search mine like he’s trying to decide whether to believe me—or protect what’s left of himself instead.
“You had the key,” he says softly. “All you had to do was show up.” He swallows hard. “I waited for you.”
A pause.
“I wanted to dance with you.”
His voice cracks ondance, and it hits me like a gut punch. I shrink back, bracing for tears, for the break. For the sound of something fragile giving way.
But it doesn’t come.
Instead, he inhales slowly, grounding himself. The silence between us tightens, breath by breath.
“But,” he says, steadier now, “I can see you’ve got things figured out.”
He nods, just once—toward Elijah. But his pretty eyes stay locked on mine. Unwavering. Honest.
“I can respect that, Alex.”
God, I’m such an idiot.
I owe him something—anything. An explanation, at the very least. I started this: the infatuation, the crush, the fucking obsession. I was the one who kissed him that night at Gravity, out of nowhere, drunk and spiraling. The one who went back, hoping to see him again, like some lovesick idiot chasing a fix I had no business craving.
Noah didn’t ask for this. He deserves better. Better than being caught in the crossfire of my confusion. Better than?—
