Page 56 of Finding Noah

She pressed her lips together, seeming to falter for a moment, before bringing her eyes to mine. She opened her mouth to say something, and my heart stuttered in my chest, tripping over beat after beat, as I waited impatiently to hear whatever she needed to say.

Then, to my disappointment, she gave her head a quick shake before turning her attention back on the bag.

“I, uh … I brought a few books. I didn’t know what you’d be into, so I just guessed …” Her voice trailed off as she pulled out a stack, leaving the bag limp and emptied.

One by one, she fed them through the bars, and after putting the blanket and food on the cot, I accepted them, reading each title aloud.

“Fairy Tale … Stephen King,” I said with a nod. “Solid.”

“Have you read it?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d never been a fan of reading, so I said, “No, but Dad likes his stuff, so it’s probably good. The Rook, Daniel O’Malley.”

I nodded at the cover before placing it on top of Fairy Tale.

The next book she handed over gave me pause, and I slid my gaze toward hers, raising a brow.

“Kiss and Don’t Tell?” I asked, holding up the book by someone named Meghan Quinn.

“Shut up. I didn’t know what you’d like, so I—”

“So, you thought I’d be into”—I turned the book over to read the back blurb—”hockey porn?”

“It’s not porn. It’s … funny.”

I turned it back over to look at the cover, my lips quirking into a smirk as I waggled my brows. “I’m sure it is.”

“Oh God, fine. If you’re going to be immature about this, give it back.”

I clutched the book to my chest and shook my head. “Nope, this is what I’m reading tonight. I’m sure it’ll be very stimulating.”

Her mouth formed a scowl, and what was it about pushing her buttons that I loved so much?

“Eat your dinner,” she muttered, turning on her heel to retreat from where she had come.

Panic coursed through my veins at the thought of watching her walk away, and I threw the book onto the cot and stepped up to the bars, gripping them in my hands.

“Wha-what are you doing tonight?”

Her shoulders lifted, then sagged with a sigh. “I have a date with this guy—”

“What guy?” I asked, my heart taking off at a gallop as my brow furrowed.

“You don’t know him. I’m supposed to meet him for dinner, and now I’m late.”

A date? Had I ever known Meg to go on a date?

God, of course she’d been on dates before. She’d probably been going on dates for years, unbeknownst to me. But now, I knew, and something in that knowledge erased every desire I’d had before to think about food, let alone eat it.

The thought of her kissing someone.

The thought of her lying in bed with them. Touching them.

I seethed with anger, aimed toward a man I didn’t know. She wasn’t his to touch. She wasn’t mine either, but I could guarantee with certainty he didn’t want her as much as I did or for as long. There was no possible way.

“Try to sleep,” she said, tightening her grip on the bag’s straps.

“‘Kay,” I muttered, turning from the bars to drop onto the cot beside the things she’d brought for me.