She looks away and I reach over and tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Maybe the right question is: What if you don’t want to send me back?”
Her breath catches. “That’s not... I can’t just...”
“Can’t what? Be happy?” My thumb traces the line of her jaw. “When was the last time you felt this alive, Noia? The last time someone made you laugh? Made you feel beautiful? Made you feel like you had to smash a glass over some asshole’s head for them?”
“You’re not real,” she whispers.
“I’m real enough to kiss you. Real enough to fight for you. Real enough to fall for you.” The words slip out before I can stop them, hanging heavy in the air between us. “And hopefully, sometime very soon, real enough tofuckyou.”
“No.” She pulls her hand from mine.
I try to reach for her again, but she shoves my hands away and pushes herself up from the couch. “I think it’s time for me to go to bed.Alone. Maybe when I wake up in the morning, this will all have been just a crazy dream.”
For some reason, her words hit me hard and when her face falls, the vulnerability in her eyes makes my chest ache.
“Noia—”
“Good night, Ryder.”
NINE
noia
The soundof Ryder’s heavy sigh follows me up the stairs. Part of me wants to turn back and see what would happen if I just let myself fall.
But I can’t. This isn’t real—there’s no wayheis real.
I close my bedroom door and lean against it. Sliding down until I’m sitting on the floor with my knees pulled to my chest, I press my palms into my eyes until I see swirls of light.
“Get it together,” I whisper. “He’s not real. This isn’t happening. You’ll probably wake up tomorrow and find yourself in a freaking loony bin.”
The memory of his lips on mine, the way his tongue swept into my mouth, makes my thighs clench together.
Crawling into bed, I pull the covers over my head and hope that when morning comes, I’ll wake up alone. That my life will go back to being simple, predictable, and safe.
But sleep doesn’t come. I toss and turn, replaying the events from tonight in my head. Dancing with him. The fight. The kiss. The last thing he’d said to me before I ran away.
‘Hopefully, sometime very soon, real enough tofuckyou.’
When I finally drift off, I dream of large hands, stormy grayeyes and writhing tattoos in a world where fiction and reality blur, until I can’t tell where one world ends, and the other begins.
I waketo sunlight streaming through my curtains and the smell of coffee drifting under my nose.
For one blissful moment, I forget everything. Then it all comes crashing back—the bar, the fight, Ryder’s unexpected confession.
The floorboards creak outside my door, followed by a soft knock.
Groaning, I bury my face in my pillow. He’s still here.
Damn it.
“Go ‘way,” I mumble.
Despite my command, the door opens.
“Rise and shine.” Ryder’s voice is infuriatingly cheerful. “I made coffee.”
I peek out from under my pillow to see him standing in the doorway, looking hot as fuck in the morning light. His hair is tousled, the bruises from last night already starting to fade to a dull purple. The T-shirt I lent him stretches across his shoulders, sweats hanging low on his hips and he’s holding two mugs of coffee.
