Chapter Eight
AMIRA
C onversation flitters around me, but barely registers against the constant nagging in my brain. Cassidy and her sister, Madison, sit with me on the grass in Cassidy’s new backyard. She and Callum officially moved in yesterday. Too soon to host a housewarming, if you ask me, but they were too excited to wait. As Madison talks about her due date and birth plan, I allow myself to zone completely out.
All I can think about is the mammoth-sized favour I need to ask of Noah. I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to come up with another solution, but it’s useless. My choice is between convincing Noah to come stay with me for a while or telling my family I’m suddenly single again. And I’m not thrilled about either option.
My original plan had been to slip my dilemma into conversation as we hauled Cassidy’s boxes down the stairs yesterday. See if I could pull a reaction out of Noah before I risked asking him. But Madison had called from the boutique, feeling nauseous and lethargic. It was a logistical nightmare. Cassidy had already organised a fill-in florist for the weekend, to do the wedding booked at the winery yesterday and work at the boutique with the girl we hired to help with the coffee cart today. Finding someone else at such short notice might not have been impossible, but it wasn’t going to be easy. So, after Cassidy reassured me she had enough help to move out, I’d rushed off to relieve Madison. I was gone before Noah had turned up, and I’ve had to rejig my thought process.
I’m so lost in working out how to bring it up while Noah is around I barely register when Cassidy stands to head inside. At least Madison takes the opportunity to stretch her legs out and rest her voice, so I don’t have to make conversation while my head is still so jumbled and distracted. She leans back onto her arms, and I mirror her position, lifting my head to let the sun warm my face.
It bears down, and more than anything I want to rip off my long-sleeved top and hike my skirt over my knees. I’m cursing the generational trauma built into my clothing choices, and how despite all the effort I go into breaking away from my parents’ traditional ways, I’m still uncomfortable showing too much leg or more than a hint of forearm. One day, I’ll feel brave enough to wear a skirt that shows my knees, or a top with a hint of cleavage, but today is not that day.
It’s funny though, how it hasn’t stopped me showing off my body in other ways when the timing and the mood has been right. When it’s just me and one other and I know that whoever they may be, they’re aching to see me just as badly as I’m aching to see them. Ever the modesty paradox.
I kick at the hem of my skirt, puffing it up and creating a hint of breeze to cool me down. It hardly works, but I’m forced to snap out of my subtle self-contempt when Cassidy introduces me to Callum’s ex. Apparently, they’re friends now, or amicable, at least.
Audrey wears navy linen pants and wraps her grey cardigan around her middle as she settles onto the grass. Her blonde highlights have grown out, creating an ombre effect that looks pulled together rather than overdue.
“It’s alright,” she sighs after the introductions and Cassidy’s fumbled mention of Madison’s pregnancy. “I’m pregnant too.”
She seems to relax after announcing her news, but after laughter from the kids floats outside through the open door, she straightens her back again. “Maisie doesn’t know.”
The giggling barrels closer as Audrey and Callum’s daughter leads her cousins into the yard. They run a squealing circle around the lawn before disappearing back inside, probably to continue laps of the new house.
“Your secret is safe with us,” I offer. It’s all I can muster when it comes to kids and pregnancy announcements. That side of adult life still feels entirely foreign to me.
I take the subtle break in conversation to glance over at Noah. He looks like the lanky kid who went through a growth spurt two years before the rest of the boys in his class. Only without any of the lankiness. I’ve always known he was tall, but I’m noticing it more lately. Or maybe I’m just noticing Noah more.
His dark henley fits tight across his chest and arms, but he at least has the confidence to push the sleeves up in the heat. They bunch above his elbows in a way that’s so attractive I want to rip them apart.
He stands with his back to the house, head turned slightly to face Callum, but even from this far, and from behind his sunglasses, I can feel his eyes all over me. His gaze burns hotter than the sun, making me want to tear my clothes off for a whole different reason.
And fuck, I always found him a little bit attractive but it’s like I can’t get enough anymore. And I’m about to ask to live with him. I hope he says yes, for familial reasons, but God it’s going to be hard to hold myself together if he does.
I’m about to stand up and beg for his help when Madison bumps her elbow into me.
“So, you and Noah? How was the wedding?”
The heat becomes unbearable, and I untuck my top to wave a cool breeze over my stomach. “The wedding was … good. But no. No me and Noah. Nup.” I rush the words out far too quickly, feeling a little like I was caught passing notes in class. Did she see me staring at him?
I immediately need to get out of this conversation, out of my head. If I don’t talk to Noah right now , I’m going to chicken out in my lust-filled haze and then I’ll have to deal with my father.
It feels like all too much. I glare down at Cassidy, wondering what she told her sister. She mouths something, but since I can’t read lips, I storm off without waiting around to ask her what she means.
I’m halfway towards the guys when I realise Noah isn’t standing with them. He’s halfway into the house, and I race across the yard to catch up with him.
“Noah,” I call out as I chase him through the door.
He’s been avoiding me since he got here, but his subtle glances gave away his true motive.
A month ago—at the wedding that seared the idea of us along the backs of my eyelids—I could have sworn the way his eyes lingered was all for show. But now? Now he has no reason to be staring at me so intently unless he has the same fleeting rush of emotions that I do. It makes me want to throw my cold drink in his face just so he has to look down, whilst simultaneously pulling him closer and claiming his mouth.
It’s infuriating. And even though I know my own conflicting emotions are not his fault, I can’t help blaming him anyway. Maybe if he hadn’t looked so damn good in that suit, I wouldn’t be swooning over the man. Maybe if he hadn’t been so damn polite when he carried me up the stairs. Maybe if he didn’t always get under my skin with his playful jabs but know exactly when the conversation calls for something a little more serious. Maybe if his henley didn’t fit him just so I wouldn’t be so infatuated with him now.
His head is in the fridge when I enter the kitchen. Hinged at the waist, his deep grey chinos fit snug against ass. And fuck, I’ve always been an ass girl and Noah’s is delectable. My tongue darts over my lip as I appreciate the man in front of me. Noah wiggles his butt, ever so slightly, just enough to let me know he is aware I’m watching. I swallow audibly.
“Did you enjoy the show?” Noah jests as he retreats from the fridge with two cans of seltzer.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I hold back the whimper that threatens to escape. Noah can read it all over my face though. He smirks as he hands me a drink.
“You didn’t come in here just to get an eyeful, did you?”
My chest begins to throb, and not in a good way. I need Noah’s help, but what I want to ask him is too much. I knew it before, but being in front of him now, needing to ask him, I’m all too aware I’m about to stretch his generosity far too thin. I have to try though. The alternative—my father’s wrath—is far worse.
“I need you to move in with me.” There. Like a Band-Aid.
His eyes widen with shock and he pushes up. He steps towards me, then with a slight shake of his head he moves back into his relaxed position against the fridge. His can fizzes as he flicks open the ring top. Eyes never leaving mine, he takes a drink.
“Please?” I add. I am not beyond begging if it means keeping my father off my back for a little longer. Hell, I’d even consider getting on my knees, only the brief thought sends a wave coursing through my veins. It pools low in my belly.
“I’m not completely against the idea.” Noah smirks and he looks so damn smug as he shrugs his shoulders. “But why exactly do you need me to move in with you? If it’s money I’m sure Callum will drop the rent more.”
Why is it so hard to just be honest? Why am I so embarrassed? It’s not my fault my parents are stuck on expired traditions and care more about my potential as a grandchild-maker than as a human being.
“It’s not money. Fuck, as lame as it sounds I’d even pay you.”
“Are you afraid of the dark, Cupcake?”
I close my eyes, take a long sip of my drink and focus on the cool liquid as though it might drench the fire inside me. Lust and anticipation and dread and anger swirl together into a burning hot mess no amount of liquid courage will help dissipate.
“My cousin is coming to stay.”
Noah’s brow furrows. “Okay? And? I’m obviously wrong here, but I would have thought that would make you less inclined to have an extra house guest. What am I missing?”
“I told my mother you were moving in when Cassidy moved out. I was trying to get her off my back about living alone and thought it would stop her from offering up my house as a permanent bed and breakfast for visiting family members. Apparently, I was wrong, and she’s still offered the room to my cousin.”
My heart races faster than I can spill out the words. Fidgeting, I pull the ring tab off my drink and flick it between my fingers. I hold my breath, trying to slow my pulse and regain my thoughts. Noah’s going to say no, and I don’t blame him. He stands with one hand shoved in the pocket of his pants, holding his cool drink against his forehead with the other.
“And if I’m not there, they’ll realise you were lying all along?”
I nod meekly. The air I was holding in releases as Noah steps into my space. Without ever touching me, he backs me against the counter and towers over me. His breath is on my neck when he reaches behind me to put his can down.
“Cupcake,” he drawls, directly into my ear. His guttural tone reverberates through my bones until I’m tingling all over.
I want to reach between us and grab his too-tight henley and pull him into me. I want to know what his breath feels like against other parts of me. But I can’t. Because I need more from him. And one fleeting moment of release would make that near impossible.
So, I hold my ground and do my best to glare up at him. I do my best to ignore the way his eyes dart down to my heaving chest. And I wait.
First rule of negotiation, whoever speaks first loses.
Noah doesn’t budge. His breath is rattly against my skin and a groan rumbles from deep inside him. It stirs something from deep inside me , but I shove it down, locking it in a metaphorical cage.
“We’d need rules,” he says finally. It sounds as though the words are digging their way from his throat.
I whimper a little as guilt crawls along my spine like nails on a chalkboard. “You don’t have to,” I whisper. “I’ll sort it out.”
As much as I need him for my own selfish reasons, I can’t force the man to come and live with me just to please my family. It was a stretch, at best, and now I can physically see the irritation in his body, I know I can’t expect him to follow through. My now empty can hangs between my fingers, but I raise my hands to push him away.
Noah’s chest is just as firm as I imagined it would be, and he recoils from my touch. There’s an audible crack of static electricity as my finger brushes against his bare chest where the top of his shirt has fallen open. He doesn’t move though. His hands still cage me against the counter and his head still falls over my shoulder.
“No,” he grunts.
“Noah,” I plead as I try to push him away again.
With a deep inhale, Noah stands tall, but doesn’t move his feet away from me.
“I hate that you have to lie to your family. I hate that they make things so hard on you, about everything. I hate that you can’t be yourself around them and that they try to take your choice over your life away from you. You shouldn’t need me in the apartment just to please them, but you do, right?”
I nod, feeling seen for the first time in my life. It’s like he sees all my fight and it feels as though he is on my side.
“Then I’ll come,” he finishes. He places a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I sink a little under its weight. “But my cat has to come with me.”