Chapter 22
NOAH
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I whine, as Gabriel takes my hand that’s flapping by my side.
He snickers, that gorgeous smile lighting up his whole face. “Trust me. It’ll be fun. Just wait until Ana and Emilee see you. They’re going to be so excited I brought you as my date.”
I fall in step beside him, trying not to let my nerves show.
Gabriel moves with that effortless confidence he always carries—like the world’s a stage, and he’s the headliner.
He looks incredible in custom-tailored blue dress pants and a beige button-down that fits him like a second skin.
That wild, unruly hair brushes the tops of his shoulders, somehow both elegant and carefree.
Model material for sure.
Nervously, I chew on my lip as we cross into the school gymnasium, which has been transformed with fairy lights, flowing fabric, and way more glitter than I thought possible.
“I didn’t realize chaperones were allowed to bring dates to their daughter’s school dance,” I murmur. The words come out lighter than I feel.
Still, it’s a relief to know we’ve moved past the snag from the other night. His apology had been slow and heartfelt, and I believe him when he says the slip of Elijah’s name wasn’t where his mind was at the moment.
Gabriel’s grin widens. “Ah, well… being generous donors to the alumni association has its privileges.” He pauses and turns toward me, something warm flickering behind his eyes. “Have I mentioned how dashing you look tonight?”
The funny thing is, I actually had felt dashing when he showed up at my apartment.
I’d taken my time getting ready—added an extra layer of prettiness.
My lips were glossed to a perfect sparkle, my eyes lined to pop just right, and my cheeks flushed in a warm coral that made me feel…
radiant. I wanted to dazzle him. I wanted him to notice.
And he had.
But now, walking across the school grounds beneath the glow of string lights and passing glances, the confidence I built earlier feels like it slipped somewhere behind us.
I’m eleven years younger than Gabriel—not ancient history, but a gap that suddenly feels wider under the gaze of parents and overgrown teenagers. Worse, I look younger than twenty-seven. A lot younger. If I wandered into the crowd on my own, no one would blink twice, assuming I was a student.
And, of course, there’s the other thing. The part that always hums underneath everything. I look more feminine than most of the guys here. More delicate. Softer in ways that make people stare a half second too long.
Gabriel must sense the spiral brewing beneath my silence because he pulls me in gently and presses a tender kiss to the corner of my brow—tender enough not to smudge the liner I’d fussed over earlier.
“YEAH… THE GAY GUYS ARE HERE!”
Well. Alrighty then.
Ana’s voice hits the room before she does, stretching around the corner like a cannon of confetti.
She barrels straight into Gabriel’s open arms. “Hi, Papi!” she squeals, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek with a smack of love and drama. Then she turns to me like a glittery missile.
“Noah!”
She grabs me without hesitation, dragging Emilee along, and suddenly I’m in the middle of the tightest teenage-girl-hug sandwich known to mankind.
“Mmm… your lips smell amazing,” Ana raves, pulling back just enough to grin at me—and shoot a very pointed wink in her father’s direction.
I feel the heat rise up my neck like a curtain of fire.
Perfect. I’m quite certain my cheeks now match the exact shade of my apparently amazing-smelling lips.
“Noah, these are our friends,” Ana announces proudly, gesturing like she’s presenting royalty. One by one, the girls step forward. “That’s Gisella, Tatiana, Jenixa, and Taylor. Girls… this gorgeous man is Papi’s boyfriend, Noah.”
I give them a soft smile. “Hi, girls.”
They all stare at me like I just walked out of Barbie’s Dream House—eyes wide, mouths slightly open, like I’m some shiny new toy they weren’t expecting at their school dance.
“Wow.” Tatiana blows out a breath. “You have gorgeous lips.”
My hand shoots up before I can stop it, tracing the shape of my Cupid’s bow. I try tucking it under my bottom lip, but—of course—it flips right back out.
“And they smell amazing!” Ana adds because of course she does. I blush so hard, my ears could probably pick up AM radio.
Yep. Definitely too much gloss. Too much shimmer. Too much everything. What on earth was I thinking?
“And those lashes… they’re fabulous,” Gisella gushes, eyes huge with admiration.
I shrink a little further into myself. If I could evaporate on the spot—just poof into thin air—now would be the perfect time.
“I wish I had his eyes,” Jenixa says, studying me with a dreamy expression. Her gaze lingers a beat too long, and I can feel the flush rising all over again.
I blink—once, twice, then way too many times, trying to get the nervous twitch under control.
“I’ve honestly never seen that color blue before,” she adds, her voice soft with awe.
Then Taylor steps forward. Her assessment is slow and unhurried, head tilted, not judging, just taking me in.
“I’d love to do your makeup sometime, Noah.”
Okay. Yes. This is how I die.
Before I can respond—or even breathe—she reaches out and gently touches the thin crisscross of fabric over my shoulder. “This is so pretty,” she says, completely sincere. I’m frozen in space, blushing from the inside out. Like my whole body is lit beneath my skin.
I knew I should have stayed home. I’m probably embarrassing Ana and Emilee. Hell, maybe even Gabriel. God, I’m such an embarrassment.
Why did I wear this? It’s not like I don’t own more masculine clothes—like a shirt and tie. Something neutral. Simple.
And the gloss—ugh, I definitely should’ve gone lighter. But I’d wanted to look pretty for Gabriel. Wanted him to be proud to have me on his arm. But now…
I feel like a freak.
At least I went with the tinted gloss and not the full-on pink. Can you imagine the looks I’d be getting if I’d gone with that shade? I’d probably set off the fire alarm.
“Hi, Mr. Garcia,” Gisella says, flashing a sweet smile up at Gabriel.
“Ah… finally.” He chuckles. “Someone takes their eyes off my pretty boyfriend.”
His arm slides around my lower back, firm but gentle, and he pulls me in closer—close enough for his warmth to settle against me. It’s not just affection. It’s protection. Reassurance. A quiet, easy claim.
But the relief is short-lived.
Their attention snaps right back to me.
“Do you braid your own hair, Noah?” Jenixa asks, a warm smile playing on her lips.
I pinch my fingers together, feeling more self-conscious than ever. I definitely wish I were invisible.
“My sister taught me how to braid when I was younger,” I say, keeping my voice low. “This is a French braid with a Mediterranean twist. It’s really pretty simple. I could show you sometime, if you want?”
I risk a glance up at Gabriel.
He’s beaming.
He leans over and presses a kiss to my burning cheek. The warmth of his lips almost distracts me from the heat rising beneath my skin.
“YES!” All four girls shriek at once.
“Okay!” Gabriel claps his hands together. “Now that we’ve got Noah officially booked for a master class on the intricate art of French braiding, I’ll be stealing him away for an extra-sugary glass of fun punch.”
He flashes the girls a goofy grin, then spins me gently in the direction of the refreshments.
“I knew you’d be a hit, sweetheart,” he murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear.
I lift a brow toward the punch bowl. “That wouldn’t happen to have alcohol in it, would it?” I tease—though, truthfully, I’m praying for a yes.
Grinning smugly, he slips a hand into his pants pocket and pulls out a nipper. The small bottle catches the light.
“I always come prepared to these events,” he says, those gray eyes sparkling with mischief.
“I knew I saw something in your pocket.” I chuckle. “I just assumed it was extra gloss… You know, for my lips.”
He arches a brow, clearly amused.
“Oh, sweetheart… the gloss for those pretty lips comes from the front of my pants, behind a zipper,” he says with a smirk.
Aaaand… my cheeks burn like an inferno.
I take my cup of fun punch just as Gabriel lifts his own.
“To new beginnings,” he toasts, eyes soft. “Thank you for giving me another chance, sweetheart. I promise—”
The sudden blare of music cuts him off—loud, and completely obnoxious, blasting from my phone like a dying trumpet.
“Oh my god! I am so sorry.” I fumble, handing Gabriel my drink as I pry the phone from the tight grip of my pocket. My fingers scramble across the screen as I silence the ringer.
“I forgot to turn the volume off,” I mutter, mortified.
Gabriel chuckles, completely unfazed. “You can answer it,” he says, that easy smile still on his lips. “The no-phone policy doesn’t apply to the chaperones.”
My heart plummets when I see my sister’s name flash across the screen.
“It’s not important,” I murmur, switching the phone to vibrate and shoving it back into my pocket like it’s radioactive.
Gabriel draws me in for a hug—but then, of course, the damn phone starts vibrating against his thigh.
“Yessss,” he hisses, delighted, eyebrows wiggling as the vibration intensifies. “I happen to like things that vibrate,” he teases, clearly trying to cut through my panic.
“It’s my sister,” I admit quietly, all the playfulness draining out of my voice.
And just like that, I feel the walls start to rise again. I’m not used to letting people in—especially when it comes to my family.
“Your sister? Does she live in New York?” Gabriel asks, his expression open and genuinely curious. “Go ahead and answer. I’d love to meet her.”
Yeah… that’s definitely not going to happen.
Erica’s a lovely person—on her good days. Depends on what version you get.
She’s different in a way most people could never understand. I love her fiercely, but she’s complicated.
“She lives in France,” I say carefully, offering a version of the truth that won’t open too many doors.
But instead of backing off, Gabriel’s smile widens.
“I happen to love France!”
The DJ cranks the music up, bass vibrating through the floor, so he leans in, his lips brushing close to my ear. “Let me take you to France, chulo?”
“Someday,” I lie gently, eager to steer the conversation away from my life. I shift closer, my lips brushing the edge of his jaw. “If you really want to take me somewhere… why don’t you take me to bed?”
That does the trick.
Gabriel lights up like I just handed him a Christmas present wrapped in lace.
“Girls!” he suddenly calls out, startling even me. Ana and Emilee pause mid-step and glance our way.
“You’ve been on your best behavior tonight…”—he flashes a proud smile—“as have I. But it’s time we make our way home before I turn into a—”
“Pumpkin!” Emilee chimes in without missing a beat.
A devilish grin crawls across his lips. “Nope… I was actually going to say before I turn into a bad boy.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Papi! Too much info…” Ana groans, but her laughter bubbles through the protest.
Gabriel just grins and turns back to me, brushing away a loose strand that’s slipped from my braid.
“Are you ready, beautiful?”
“Ready,” I say softly.
And then—buzz.
My phone vibrates again, insistent and unwelcome, pressing up from the depths of my pocket like a truth I don’t want to face.