Page 72 of Finding Noah

I shrugged it off, moving my gaze from hers to look above at the stars twinkling in the sky. “It's just what I've been taught to do. I mean, what's the alternative, you know?”

Her wonderous stare made me shift from foot to foot, made me uncomfortable in my own skin, like for the first time, she was seeing something in me. Like I was stripped bare, down to my core, and she was memorizing every dip and curve of sinew and muscle. Tracing the tangles of veins and nerves. I didn't like it, but I loved that she was looking at me.

“I'm going out with Jack tonight,” she said, her eyes now pinned to my badge.

That fucking guy. My lungs filled with the clean, fresh air, yet it felt stale and awful, leaving my chest tight and yearning for more.

“I hope you have a good time,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral, but my jaw ached, and my tone was bitter.

She bit her bottom lip, clutched that massive bag closer, and shook her head. “Tell me not to go.”

Instantly jarred and shaken, I dropped my eyes to hers, my nerves kicking into high gear. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you want me,” she stated, holding my gaze.

My brow furrowed, and my hands began to shake at my sides. “What … what does that matter? It's never mattered. You don’t want me. You—”

“But what if I changed my mind?”

A laugh barked from my lips, so loud and abrupt that I was instantly embarrassed that someone might've heard.

“What?” I asked, amused and incredulous. I thrust a hand through my hair and swept my gaze across the parking lot, just to look anywhere but at her. “All this fucking time, and now—”

“Look at me. Please.”

I did, my chest puffing with every labored breath. Oh God, it was hard to breathe, and you'd think the very opposite would happen at the moment my most impossible dream came true, but I hadn't expected it to terrify me. I hadn't anticipated my entire world to be rocked and jostled and set off its fucking axis at the moment she agreed to be mine. But I was standing at the edge of that precipice—finally—and, oh God, I wanted to leap, but I was terrified I'd fall to uncertain death.

But when my eyes found hers, all I found was truth. Unburdened. And a fear as real as mine.

“I'm breaking up with him,” she announced, her voice fragile but sure.

“You're fucking serious right now,” I stated, more to myself than to her. “You're not fucking with me.”

She nodded, a cautious smile tugging at her lips. “I was going to meet him for dinner and do it in person.”

“And you, what? Just decided this tonight o-or—”

“No,” she replied, giving her head a quick shake, making her curls dance against her shoulders. “No, I, um … I've known for a little while. I just wanted to wait for the right time. I didn't want to hurt him, you know? He's … he's not a bad guy. He's always treated me right.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Clearly, we didn't share the same perception of his attitude. But he was jealous, I reminded myself, and now I understood why.

Holy crap, this is really happening.

The need to grin and laugh and cry and howl at the fucking moon was all-consuming and overwhelming, and I did none of the above. I just bit at my lip, grappling for the last shreds of my composure, as she took a step closer, shrinking the distance between us, and continued to speak.

“But if you told me not to go, if you told me to … to stay here … with you … I would. I would call him instead. It's …” Nervous laughter bubbled past her lips as she brushed a curl away from her cheek. “God, this is crazy. I don't know what's happening. Like, I … I kinda knew I liked you a while ago, but I thought it was, you know, a silly little thing. You know, fleeting or something, and I just ignored it. I thought it'd go away. I thought I'd get over it. But …”

Then, to my horror, her blue eyes were suddenly swimming in pools of tears, and my hands were clenching into fists at my sides, my blunt fingernails digging into my palms.

“Oh my God, Noah, I can't stop thinking about you,” she admitted in a trembling whisper. “I wake up, and I can't wait to see you. I go home, and I'm sad I have to walk away from you. I go to bed, and I dream about you. I can't get you out of my head, and I'm tired of ignoring it. I'm so sick of telling myself to stop, like it's wrong, when the only thing wrong about this is pretending it doesn't exist. But I'm done pretending. I'm done acting like—”

“Don't go,” I finally said in a hurry, after moments of stupefied silence. My trembling hands lifted to blanket her cheeks with my palms, my fingertips dipping into the tangles of her curls. “Holy shit, Meghan, don't fucking go.”

That gigantic tote bag was dropped to the asphalt as her hands lay over my wrists, her fingers curling and holding me there, to her.

I bent my neck, my eyes holding her gaze as I said, “I don't want to give him the chance to change your mind again.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn't. Not this time.”