I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling unblinkingly until my eyes started to water.
When I closed my eyes, two fat drops of tears fell out.
I kept replaying the sound of Noah's rough voice and the softness in his eyes, and the feel of his hand as he touched my face tenderly.
So tender that it surprised me — not because I thought he wasn't capable of it. I knew he was. But because I was the recipient of it.
Turning on my stomach, I reached for the sketch on my desk, gently placing it on the bed so I could look at it. I traced his initials.
NH
It was written haphazardly. His strokes were bold, the lines straight and sharp.
Wasn't there a meaning to a person's handwriting? I wondered what his meant.
When I heard a noise by my window, I nearly shrieked. Eyes wide and ears alert, I stayed in my bed, straining to listen.
Then I heard it again. A soft knock this time.
Quietly, I tiptoed to my window, taking a peek behind the curtain.
Noah was crouched on my window ledge, a small smile on his lips, his eyes midnight blue in the moonlight as they gazed at me.
Then they suddenly flicked down to my lips, and his smile disappeared.
"Can I come in?" he asked, his voice muffled by the closed window.
When I just stood there staring at his beautiful face, he rapped the glass once, waking me out of my stupor.
Okay, real talk: it was already hard to use my brain cells when he was around. It was impossible when he was this close.
Wait a minute. Did he actually
really
for real
in real life
asked to come in my bedroom?
Oh, boy.
Boy, oh, boy.
My body suddenly felt numb, like silvery ice was streaming inside my veins, making me shiver in a really good way. Unlocking the window, I slid it open and stepped back.
I waited for him to jump inside, but he stayed crouched at my window. His long arms were raised, holding onto the top frame to keep his balance. His head was bowed low.
I gulped.
He looked like I could dip him in chocolate.
Actually, he was the chocolate.
Melted chocolate.
I could be the spoon.
His long legs swung out agilely, and I watched as he unfolded his long lean body, ducking his head as he smoothly jumped inside.
Noah was in my bedroom.
Really.
For real.
In real life.
Noah. In. My. Bedroom.
"Parker?"
"Yes?" I croaked, sounding like a seahorse with tonsillitis.
"I asked how you were feeling," he said, frowning.
"You did?" I blinked.
He leaned back against the wall, bottled-blue eyes wary. Looking like a dark archangel.
My room had always been spacious, but Noah's presence was so bold, so strong that my room felt as small as a postage stamp.
I had always been aware of Noah, but here in my room my awareness of him became so vivid it was almost painful.
"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, his face passive.
"No!" I exclaimed quickly. "Please don't."
He nodded. His face did not hint of his thoughts at my outburst.
"Do you... do you want to take a seat?" I asked, gesturing toward the bed.
My eyes widened as I realized where I just told him to sit.
"I mean, not there. Unless you want to..." I groaned, covering my flaming cheeks with my hand.
This was totally not the direction I want our conversation to go.
He let out a soft laugh, and I looked up to find him looking at me with laughter in his eyes. "You are completely artless," he said.
His blue eyes began to scan my room and a smile flitted on his lips at what he saw.
My eyes widened in apprehension. When was the last time I cleaned up?
Did I have a bra lying around? Or worse, panties?
Crapfreakcrap.
I was tempted to look around just to check, but stopped myself. If there was anything embarrassing lying around, I thought I'd prefer to find it later when he was gone.
Then I could die in mortification. Alone.
Forever alone.
"How are you?" he asked. His hand lifted, index finger tapping his lip.
My hand automatically touched my split lip. I winced.
His eyes hardened.
"Can I ask you something, Noah?"
He looked wary but he nodded.
"Where did you learn to fight like that?"
His eyes lowered, and it took a while before he answered. "I didn't have an easy childhood, Parker."
"Oh," I breathed. My chest tightened. "I didn't either."
His eyes lifted to mine in disbelief.
"I don't mean like my parents abused me—" I trailed off, my eyes widening at my blunder. "I'm sorry, Noah—"
He shrugged. "It's not a secret that my dad's the best father in town," he said sarcastically.
"You were saying?" he prompted when I didn't continue.
I brought my hands together, picking at the hangnail on my pinkie. "I know what it's like to get bullied. There was this boy back in my school in Winnipeg. He abused me.
"It took months before I could say anything. Actually, I didn't say anything. I was too scared. My mom just found out. And even after he was reprimanded, it didn't stop. Not until I... did something about it."
"And what did you do?"
"I... punched his nose."
The most beautiful crooked smile appeared on his lips. "Good job," he praised.
His compliment warmed me.
"Although... I felt so bad I apologized to him the next day." I worried my lip. "Can I ask you something else?"
He nodded.
My eyes lowered before I asked,"Why didn't you come to school this morning?"
Again, it took a while before he replied and I was stressing out. Stressed enough that I unconsciously pulled the hangnail off the side of my nail.
"Ow!" I exclaimed.
A dot of blood oozed out. I was going to grab a band-aid when Noah gripped my wrist gently and, in a demanding manner, his long fingers wrapped around my injured finger, and without warning, placed it in his mouth.
Oh God.
My heart. My soul.
There were inexplicable feelings gathering inside my stomach. Like someone was mixing hotpot in it.
Like I just swallowed a whole bottle of Wasabi and instead of the heat coming out of my nose, it was trapped inside my stomach.
Maybe you can fart it out.
Please don't ruin the moment.
When my finger slid out of his mouth, I expected to feel relieved. But the feeling remained. Maybe a few degrees lower, but it was still there.
"I wasn't sure if I wanted to go back," he whispered, his voice thick.
It took me a brain freeze moment before I remembered what we were talking about.
"And you decided to stay?" I croaked.
He smiled. And I knew there was meaning behind it. I just didn't know what it was. "I'm here, aren't I?"
"I'm not sure. I feel like I'm in a different dimension right now. I mean you're in my room and I was inside your mouth—" I groaned. "I mean my finger was... Noah, can you do me a favor and just shoot me, please?"
He laughed. He stepped away from me, just a little off to the side so that the moonlight softly kissed his face, and he whispered, "I think I'll keep you."
A/N: Hi, loves! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please make me smile and vote by clicking that star at the bottom of your screen. Love, Isabelle