My entire body buzzed with warmth, heat pooling low in my stomach, but there was no panic. No urge to pull away. Just this deep, aching sense of being seen and held exactly as I was.
I curled closer to him, my head tucking beneath his chin, hisarm wrapping fully around me now. He pressed a kiss to the crown of my head, breathing me in like he needed it as much as I did.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly. “Not when you get quiet. Not when you doubt yourself. Not when you forget who you are.”
I nodded against his chest, tears dampening his shirt, my heart finally slowing to match his. We stayed like that, wrapped around each other on the couch, the world narrowed down to the sound of his breathing and the weight of his arms.
And even without kissing his mouth, even without crossing any lines, I’d never felt more wanted—or safer—in my entire life. “Weren’t we supposed to talk about…us?”
18
NOAH
“That’s exactly what we’re doing, Em,” I said quietly. My voice came out steady even though my chest felt like it was splitting open. I didn’t pull away, didn’t loosen my hold on her, because the last thing I wanted was for her to think this conversation meant distance. “We’re talking about us, and how we fit together. Why we’re a great pair.”
She stayed close, her cheek warm against my chest, like she was bracing for something to fall apart if she moved. I could feel the tension in her shoulders, the way she held herself like she was waiting for the catch, for the part where I’d list conditions or exceptions. I tightened my arm around her a little.
“I know I don’t look nervous,” I said, a quiet huff of a laugh escaping me. “I’m pretty good at hiding it. Kind of a job requirement.” I tipped my head down, brushing my nose through her hair. “But don’t mistake calm for certainty. I’ve been pacing inside my own head all day.”
Her fingers curled into my shirt, barely, like she was afraid of asking for more. That small movement hit me hard.
“I’ve spent a long time wondering why you’d ever look at meand see anything other than a friend,” I admitted. “Even back then. Especially back then.” I shifted so I could see her face, my hand sliding up to cradle her jaw, thumb brushing softly along her cheekbone. “You were always… so much.”
She frowned at that, instinctively ready to argue, and I smiled because of course she would.
“I don’t mean overwhelming,” I said quickly. “I mean alive. You walk into rooms like you belong there, like the space adjusts around you instead of the other way around. You laugh loud. You talk to everyone. You make people feel included without trying.” I swallowed, my throat tight. “And I noticed you the first day I saw you.”
Her eyes widened slightly, breath catching.
“It was freshman orientation,” I continued, the memory as clear as if it were burned into me. “You were standing on a chair because the microphone wasn’t working, making jokes about how we were all about to be broke and sleep-deprived together. You had on this stupid hat, and you were grinning like the world was a dare.” I smiled to myself. “I remember thinking,I’m in trouble.”
She let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “I was a mess back then.”
“No,” I said firmly. “You were magnetic.”
My thumb traced her jaw again, slow and reverent, like I was still half-convinced she might disappear if I didn’t keep touching her. “I’ve been into you since then, Em. Not in a casual way. In a quiet, sit-with-it-for-years kind of way.” I exhaled, the honesty heavy in my chest. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to lose you. And somewhere along the line, that fear turned into habit.”
Her gaze softened, something fragile and hopeful flickering there, and my own nerves spiked. I leaned in, pressing my forehead to hers, breathing her in.
“I know I come with a lot now,” I said. “I know my life isn’t simple. I know Miles changes things. Hell, I’m still figuring my damn life out myself.” My hand slid to the small of her back, holding her there, solid and sure. “But none of that makes me less sure about you. If anything, it makes me more.”
I pulled back enough to look at her, really look at her. The woman who made my apartment feel like a home. The woman who fit against me like she always had, like she’d been here before my life split in half and stayed anyway.
“You don’t have to earn a place with me,” I said softly. “You don’t have to prove you’re enough. You already are.” My thumb brushed beneath her eye, gentle as a promise. “And if you ever forget that, I’ll remind you. As many times as it takes.”
I kissed her temple, slow and lingering, then her cheek, then the corner of her jaw—everywhere but where I knew neither of us was ready to go yet. Each kiss was deliberate, unhurried, like I was committing the feel of her to memory.
“Noah,” she said, her voice watery and filled with emotion. There was also a plea there. “Please.”
“Please what?” I asked, shuddering against the feel of her warm smooth skin. I’d been fighting myself from kissing her until we talked, but my restraint was thin.
“Noah, I-I-I—“ She trailed off, tilting her face up so her mouth brushed mine. “Kiss me.”
The words landed soft but heavy, like she’d been holding them in all night, like they’d been waiting for the right moment to exist. Her mouth brushed mine by accident—or maybe on purpose—and whatever careful control I’d been clinging to finally gave way. I stilled for half a heartbeat, long enough to be sure this was want and not fear, choice and not overwhelm.
Then I kissed her.
It started slow, because I didn’t know how to kiss her any other way. My mouth pressed to hers carefully, deliberately, likeI was asking permission again even though she’d already given it. She sighed into the kiss, a quiet, broken sound that went straight through my chest, and something inside me loosened that I hadn’t realized I’d been holding tight for years.
