“Em?” His voice carried over the crowd, warm and steady, like it hadn’t been years since I’d heard it.
“Noah, hey.” My face heated as he took his time, his gaze trailing slowly from my legs up over my calves and thighs, lingering on my chest before settling on my face. He had that same ability he always did—making you feel like the only person in the room. Noah never scattered his attention. He gave it all to you, like you mattered. Like you weren’t second choice, even when the world was loud around you.
“Look at you.” He beamed, and before I could blink, he closed the distance between us with two steps. His massive arms wrapped me up in a bear hug that lifted me clean off the ground.
I laughed against his shoulder, the sound embarrassingly high-pitched, because God, I’d missed him. I hadn’t realized until now how much. He smelled like clean soap and summer air, and for a second it was like we were back at Central State, running across campus because we were late for a class—again.
“Put me down, Abbott,” I teased, though I clung to him a second longer than I should’ve.
He set me on my feet, smile wide, still holding me like he wasn’t ready to let go.
Memories hit all at once, too many to sort: sitting on the bleachers with hot chocolate that tasted like watered-down syrup, daring each other to jump into a lake in April, staying up way too late playing Euchre in the dorm lobby, and him sneaking me cafeteria cookies because he knew I hated walking across campus after dark. Silly, stupid things. But they were ours. He had been such a good friend all through college. Why did we stop talking? I couldn’t find a reason and dismissed unpacking that.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” I blurted, because it was saferthan admitting how great he looked now—broader, older, beard shadow darker than I remembered.
His smile turned softer as he played with the ends of my hair. “Love this length on you. Are you in the city now or visiting for the event?”
“I’d ask you, but your face is all over billboards now. Congrats, dude.” I hit his shoulder, playfully. “Look at you playing for the Rampage.”
He chuckled, that low rumble that always made me laugh in class when I was supposed to be taking notes. God, I’d forgotten how much I loved that sound. A slight redness crept up his face as he gripped the back of his neck. “Yeah.”
“Yeah? That’s all you gotta say?” I nudged him more, my own face warming from the glass of wine. “You wanted to play for your hometown. You made it, man.”
If it were anyone else, I’d feel a pinch of envy. A flash of jealousy that someone found their path while I was trying to discover mine. Yet with Noah, I wanted nothing but the best for him. “Come on, we must cheer to this. You achieved your dream!”
I took his hand in my and dragged him to the bar, pausing to glance back at him. He stared at our conjoined hands with wide eyes, a blush covering his entire face as I immediately released him. “Sorry, I got too touchy. I momentarily went back in time.”
“Oh, no, it’s--” He shook his head, his lips parting as he frowned. “You’re, uh, fine.”
Damnit. My breath hitched in my throat with embarrassment, and I put some distance between us. I learned young that some people were huggers and others weren’t. I was one. When I experienced a certain comfort with someone, touching was easy as breathing. Despite losing contact with Noah the last few years, being with him was the same immediate connection. “Do you still drink sweet drinks?”
“The sweetest.” He grinned again, his dark brown eyes twinkling as he stepped closer to me. “And do you still drink your hoppy beer?”
“The hoppiest.” I beamed back, so damn glad I went out tonight. I could’ve been at home, scrolling online and feeling envious or sad. I leaned over the bar and ordered drinks for both of us, but before I could pay with my phone, Noah placed a hand on my shoulder and scoffed.
“Em, I’m buying our drinks.”
“Oh no, it’s my treat. I dragged you here.” I shooed him away, but he took my hand with my phone and moved it behind me, placing his card out instead. “Okay, that was a power move. Kinda hot.”
His ears turned red as he rolled his eyes. “Still such a flirt. Glad to see that hasn’t changed.”
I couldn’t stop smiling at my old buddy. My face hurt, my chest ached, but I didn’t care. I leaned one elbow on the bar, sizing him up and noting how much bigger he looked. He’d put on weight since college, and it made him look unshakable, all carved lines and power. He could probably smash this bar in half with one karate chop.
I had to tilt my head almost all the way back to meet his eyes now, but somehow, he never made me feel small. Not with the way he stared at me, like I wasn’t background noise in a crowded alumni event.
“God, it’s so good to see you, Abbott. It’s taking all my effort not to squeeze you.”
His lips quirked, and that old dimple appeared, the one that got him out of more trouble than he ever admitted. He opened his arms wide, jutting his chin down in challenge. “Come here then. I know you need your cuddle fix, Sanders.”
My heart skipped a beat before I dove into him.
The second my arms wrapped around him, his warmth waslike slipping into a version of myself I hadn’t touched in years. Affection had always been my language. A squeeze of the hand when someone was nervous, a shoulder bump when words weren’t enough, looping my arm through a friend’s because I didn’t want them to walk alone.
But people always misread it. They thought my touching was flirting or, worse, desperation. And after enough broken trust—after my dad’s affair, after my ex’s betrayal—I’d stopped giving my hugs out so freely. I’d stopped letting myself reach for people the way I used to, even though my chest ached from the loss of that ease.
I missed it. God, I missed it. Missed that easy affection, missed the grounding comfort of touch without an agenda.
But Noah? He’d never misunderstood me. He’d never flinched from a hug or pulled away like I’d asked for too much. Even back in college, he let me cling to him when I was stressed before finals, let me braid stupid little friendship knots into his hoodie strings during late-night study groups. He’d tease me, sure, but he’d never once made me feel like my affection was unwanted.
