Chapter Thirty-Four
AMIRA
“I ’m definitely taking this bedroom.” Ella leans against the doorway, taking in my near empty room.
I’ve left the bed, since Noah already has one that actually fits the two of us. Even if we end up hugging all night anyway the mattress is a million times better and the bedhead doesn’t bang against the wall when we get a little … rough.
I haven’t spent a night here in the apartment since that day we had tea with my parents. And after two weeks of me living out of a bag, Noah finally asked if I wanted to move in with him. For real this time. It’s a little sad, leaving the apartment behind, but Ella will take good care of her.
“Callum will help with the rent until you find someone if you need,” I offer. I haven’t actually asked him, but it’ll be fine. The man has more money than he knows what to do with anyway.
Ella scrunches up her nose. “Ugh, I don’t need a handout from some rich guy I don’t know. A friend of a friend has a cousin moving down from Sydney. We’ve spoken on socials and she’s going to move in next week. It’ll be fun.”
It will be. Ella’s excitement reminds me of my own when I first moved in here. A small sliver of freedom from a family so overbearing it hurts sometimes. I’m slowly learning they mean well, but having my own space has been a lifesaver. Although Ella has never seemed to feel the pressure as much as me, I hope being here on her own offers her a little of the same luxury.
“Come on,” she says as she grabs one of the last two boxes off the bed. “Noah’s probably waiting for you.”
“He’s probably halfway up the stairs to help with these.” The last box is light, the final few odd bits from the bedroom. The purple blanket I keep draped on the end of the bed, even through summer. The fluffy matching pillows. One of them still smells like Noah. I hadn’t washed it, wanting to savour the scent as long as possible. I suppose I can run it through the machine now that I’ll be spending every day soaking in the hint of spice behind his dark fruity cologne. It reminds me of the winery, but I’ve never stopped to wonder which came first. It doesn’t matter, in the end, since it’s mine to enjoy either way.
As if on cue, Noah steps into the hallway. “We’ll grab these ones,” he chirps in a terribly high-pitched imitation of … me? I said those words, but I sound nothing like that.
“And we have them,” I huff as I push past him. Ella follows me through the door, but it’s not until I’m in the stairwell that I pause to realise I’ve just moved out.
And fuck, I’m moving in with a boy. My pulse quickens and heat spreads up my neck. It’s okay, I’m okay , I remind myself, trying to ease the panic before it catches hold. I gave Cassidy so much shit for moving in with Callum all because she fell in love, and now, here I am. Doing exactly the same. Turns out my future is going to look more like hers than I thought it would.
“All good?” Noah’s breath is warm against my earlobe, his arms firm against my sides. I nod against his cheek, and he spins around me to grab the box. “You know what,” he says as he begins our final descent. “I’m pretty glad I’ll never have to lug boxes up or down these stairs again.”
I’d say, ‘me, too’, but I know I’ve done very little lugging.
We drove our fully loaded cars separately back to Noah’s grandmother’s house. To our house, I suppose. My palms were sweaty the whole way here, but as I pull into the garage next to Noah’s sleek SUV an immense calm washes over me. Home. I can’t explain how or why, since it’s only been two weeks and I’m only just now actually moving in. But I feel like I’m finally home.
I can’t shake the warm fuzzy feeling that washes over me and paints a smile across my face. The wide kind I try to avoid because it makes my eyes crinkle up. I turn the ignition off and open the door, but sit for a while, soaking it in.
On the other side of my aging sedan, Noah steps down from his own car. I watch as he leans back in to pull the something from the passenger seat. His linen shorts stretch further than the fabric should be able to, pressing into the curves of his ass and clinging to his thick thighs. I’ve always known asses were my thing, but I’ll never tire of Noah’s. It makes me want to crawl across my car and bite it.
Hastily, I try to shake away the feeling, but the thought is there now. Seared into my brain, and I know it will never go away until I actually have the chance. I’m trying to figure out how to ask him if he’d even be into that, and there’s a throbbing in my core at the fantasy. I squeeze my thighs together, biting my lip, hoping some form of friction will make the pulsing stop, but it’s futile. Noah straightens and turns.
An overfull duffle bag hangs from his shoulders, but when he sees me, his eyes are pitch black. He drops the bag and the thud of it hitting the concrete flooring echoes through the surprisingly large garage.
Biting my lip, I step out of my own car. Noah’s tall enough to see over the roof, but I have to step around the door to look over the bonnet to meet his gaze.
“Home sweet home?” And ugh, why is my voice so squeaky? It’s not like we’ve never been together before. Not like we’ve never shared a bed or seen each other first thing in the morning. I can trace the lines of his pillow wrinkles even once they’ve faded away. I know about the freckle buried under the hair at the base of his cock. He knows the soft spot under my hip bone that always tickles.
I’m so lost in the sudden embarrassment of just how monumental this moment is, and the memory of every moment before, that I don’t notice Noah make his way around my car until his thighs press against the back of mine.
“Sure feels like home now,” he whispers in my ear. Heat flares down my spine as he pushes my ponytail to the side and kisses the back of my neck. “Let’s get everything inside.”
And he’s gone, cool air rushing through the open roller door and lingering on my skin where he kissed me. In only a few long strides, Noah is scooping the duffle bag off the ground and collecting more of my things from the boot of his car. My heart is racing, but I urge it to return to a steady rhythm as I follow Noah’s lead.
Thankfully, there are no stairs in Noah’s house. It only takes a handful of trips to get everything inside, and despite her best efforts to run through our feet, neither of us trip on Kitch. With boxes and suitcases and plastic tubs stacked haphazardly in the living room, Noah and I stand side by side, formulating a plan. I left all the big furniture with Ella—she needed it and I don’t—but I’ve accumulated a lot of stuff in the past almost ten years of living in that tiny apartment. And I already donated three large boxes of things I knew I didn’t want to keep. Looking around Noah’s quaint living space, I have no idea where all my things are going to go. Every surface is covered with nick-nacks and photo frames. The old lady charm of the room is broken only briefly where Noah’s personality shines through. A Lego spaceship squished between crystal ornaments and empty vases. A photo of Noah and Cassidy in a frame far too sleek compared to the ornate wooden ones surrounding it. The bright red cat tree I bought Kitch sitting in the corner by the window. And the bit that looks least out of place, that I never noticed until now but recognise immediately; a single, long-stemmed white rose, tied with a shiny brown—or champagne, depending on who you ask—ribbon, hanging upside down from a small pin in the wall.
“You kept this?” I step around the pile in the centre of the room. The white petals have browned to a shade similar to the ribbon, the green leaf wilted into a thin, papery piece that looks like it might crumble if I dare touch it. I didn’t remember what I’d done with it. I never cared enough to wonder.
Noah wraps his arms around me, resting his chin over my shoulder. “And you kept the polaroid.”