Chapter 2 #2
“We could,” I say. I lean in, lower my voice. “Or I could make the drive home worth it.” I give his firm, rounded butt cheek a playful pinch.
“Hold that thought,” Elijah says with a laugh, breaking into a sprint as he disappears into the pounding rain.
I can’t wipe the smile from my face. Humming softly, I watch him until he vanishes, swallowed by the night and the steady curtain of rain.
God, I love him so damn much. And, okay, I’ll admit it—tonight’s performance was wildly entertaining. I never expected it to be—
“Alex?”
I freeze.
The voice is soft. Familiar. Sweet.
I feel the heat of him before he even reaches me—closer, closer—until the air between us feels stolen, leaving me breathing nothing but fresh skin and the faint scent of fruity lips.
“Are you okay?” Noah asks gently, stepping up beside me.
Nope. Not even close.
I am very much not okay.
Like a robot, I turn to face him. “Hi.” That’s all I can manage.
His pretty blue eyes search mine, and I see it clearly—hope. Flickering behind his lashes, fragile and bright.
“Are you here alone?” he asks, voice quiet, unsure… hopeful.
I glance back at the street, letting the rain blur everything. “I thought you danced ballet?”
“I do,” he says softly, brushing his fingers against my elbow, then letting them fall. “And I also dance on poles.”
Kill me now.
Dragging a hand down my face, I once again turn to face him. He’s looking at me, eyes so wide and wholesome, they almost buckle my knees. “Well… you’re really good at it,” I manage. Because what else is there to say? It’s the truth.
Noah’s face lights up, those beautiful eyes flashing.
“Thank you. I really enjoy it.” He fidgets beside me, restless energy sparking off him—the same energy buzzing through my own fried nerves.
My eyes drift to his hands, his fidgeting fingers.
God, how I want to take them, kiss each knuckle until his nerves settle.
But I’m shaking inside. The last time I saw him was at Gravity—the night he approached me with quiet confidence and slipped the key to his apartment under a napkin like some kind of secret invitation.
I never went, of course. I told myself it was a bad idea, that nothing good could ever come of it. Not when I was in love with Elijah.
But now… my chest feels tight.
What if he’s been waiting this whole time—expecting me to show up, to explain myself, to want more? What if he took my silence as hesitation… not rejection?
And why the hell am I even thinking about this? It was just a crush. A fleeting obsession. That’s it. Nothing more.
So why does seeing him again feel like standing on the edge of a cliff?
God. Please. Don’t let this get messy.
“Well, hello there!”
Elijah’s voice cuts straight through the tension as he strides forward, all charm and confidence, hand extended.
I slap mine against my chest—for Chris’s sake.
“We haven’t officially met, but I recognize you from my building. I’m Elijah. You were incredible tonight.”
I grit my teeth as he keeps going, praising the performance, complimenting him on his talent, acting like the perfect gentleman with maddening ease. Then, without missing a beat, he laces his fingers through mine like it’s second nature.
Well. There’s your answer, Noah.
I’m definitely not here alone.
But if he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. In fact, he looks calmer than I feel.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” he says, offering a small, composed smile. “I’m Noah.”
A flash goes off in the distance, and I whirl around.
Shit.
Another flash—closer this time—and I spin back, pulse kicking up. It’s just my luck that someone recognized me. It’s not that I don’t adore my fans; I actually enjoy meeting them. But tonight, I just wanted to be with Elijah with no interruptions.
“And this here is Alex,” Elijah says beside me, still beaming like nothing’s off. “Though… it seems like you two have already met?”
His eyes flick between us, quick, sharp, a little too curious, and for the life of me, I can’t come up with a single damn thing to say.
“Y-yes, we have,” Noah stammers, just as the crowd noise swells and more camera flashes explode around us.
I pretend not to notice, though I can feel the eyes—dozens of them—landing on me all at once. Still, I keep my focus on Noah.
“I’m… um… just waiting for my ride,” he says, glancing toward the street, scanning the traffic like it might save him. His voice is polite, but strained. He’s looking for an exit. Trying to escape the awkward tension.
Honestly? So am I.
But, of course, Elijah decides to toss gasoline onto the awkward.
He reaches out, clasps Noah’s slender shoulder, and gives it a squeeze.
“Let us give you a lift,” he offers, smooth as ever. “We’re all headed to the same place, after all, sí?”
Noah’s calm flickers. Panic dives into his eyes as he turns to me, searching—for what, I’m not sure. Permission? An out?
For fuck’s sake, do something.
I rake a hand through my hair and drop my gaze to the pavement. “We’d be happy to give you a ride,” I mumble, the words tasting like regret before they’ve even left my mouth.
But I say them anyway. Because the cameras are getting closer.
And I need to disappear—fast.