17. Zoey
17
Zoey
G ripping the door handle, I slowly pull it open and hold my breath as I peer out into the hallway. My gaze swings from left to right as I listen out, making sure Aunt Maya and Noah are gone.
It’s late, and I’ve been hiding out in my room way too long to be considered polite, but for some reason, I don’t think anyone is going to hold that against me tonight.
I was stupid to assume I could do this, stupid to give him a reason to need to come here. What was I thinking? I thought I was strong enough to face him, but the second his leg brushed against mine under the table, everything within me broke. I needed his touch more than I needed to breathe, and I think on some level he knew that. Or maybe he needed the touch just as much as I did.
But then Mom had to go and push it, and while I get that she thought she was helping, all it did was crush me, and every snide comment I’d been planning to unleash on Noah suddenly didn’t seem so important. I didn’t feel important, not anymore.
My gaze sweeps toward Hazel’s door, and I listen a little harder. Noah was up here earlier. I could hear the soft murmuring of their conversation, muffled by the walls. I’m not going to lie; I’ve never been so jealous of my sister in my life. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been jealous of her, but seeing how easily she held Noah’s attention and was able to get a whole conversation out of him only added insult to injury.
I’ve never longed for something more.
It guts me that we don’t have that anymore, that I can’t just go to him and tell him all about my day and hang on his every word like I used to. And despite him sitting right across the table from me during dinner, I’ve never missed him more. Having the distance so blatantly rubbed in my face only makes him feel that much further away.
This whole night has only served to mess with my head. It used to be me who he’d launch little bits of bread across the table at. We always thought we were being so discreet, having ridiculous bread wars at the other end of the table from our parents, thinking no one was watching. Only we couldn’t have been more wrong. They were always watching us. Always waiting for the moment we realized that we were so much more than bestest friends . But what they didn’t know is that we’d known it all along, and those precious moments when things were starting to shift would happen in private—a soft brush of his fingers over my arm or when I’d catch his stare lingering on my lips like he’d die without them.
No longer able to hear clinking wine glasses or Mom and Aunt Maya’s shrill laughter downstairs, I let out a heavy breath, though, for the life of me, I can’t work out if it’s filled with disappointment or relief. I had hoped tonight would play out differently, but that’s on me. I should have known better than to allow myself to hope.
Certain Aunt Maya and Noah have left for the night, I venture out into the hall, and as I pass Hazel’s room, I don’t look up, terrified that she’ll be able to see the jealousy in my eyes.
Stepping into the bathroom, I tear my clothes off and dump them into the hamper before stepping into the shower and allowing the warm water to cascade over me, willing it to wash away the stain Noah has left on my heart. Unfortunately for me, it seems that stain is permanent, and I have a sinking feeling that the only person capable of scrubbing it clean is the one person who refuses to get close enough to try.
Stepping out of the shower, I grab my towel and quickly dry off before wrapping it around my body and tucking the end between my barely existent breasts to keep the towel firmly in place. I brush out my hair and then as a yawn rips through my body, I stride out of the bathroom and head back to my room, more than ready to find my comfiest pajamas and call it a night.
Music spills from my bedroom, and when I push back through my door, I come to a screeching halt, finding Noah standing at my desk, his car keys hanging from his fingers as he leans back, his foot crossed over the other, as casual as can be.
My eyes widen as my hand flies to my towel, gripping it hard, more than aware that I am very naked beneath this shred of cotton.
Noah’s gaze slowly trails up and down my body, and I try to ignore the flare of desire that pulses through his eyes, but when he blinks and opens his eyes again, I’m met with the usual darkness. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I snap. “Get out.”
He doesn’t even pretend to make a move, simply crosses his big arms over his chest, looking bored. His gaze bores into mine, making my heart race faster than ever before. A strange curiosity flashes in his eyes, and I wait a moment, realizing whatever this is doesn’t have anything to do with the keys in his hand.
His tongue rolls over his bottom lip, deep in thought, and from what I can tell, it looks as though he’s suffering through an internal battle, debating whether he’s going to ask me whatever’s been plaguing his mind.
“Spit it out, Noah,” I say, my gaze darting to the back of my bedroom door to where my robe usually hangs, only the one day I actually need it, it’s not there.
Noah’s gaze singes me from the inside out, and I try to hold on to my composure as he finally gets to the reason he’s here. “Why does my mom call you her little warrior?” he questions, a strange tone to his deep voice, something I’m still not used to hearing.
My jaw slackens, and the shock of his question has my hand falling away from the top of my towel. “You’re kidding, right?” I breathe, my brows furrowed as a deep slice cuts straight across my chest, letting my agony fall out on the ground for the world to see.
This has got to be a joke. How could he not know?
My gaze flickers to the photograph of me that’s half hidden behind his big body, and I will the tears to stay at bay. He was there for all of it. Held my hand through the chemotherapy. Is he so far gone to have forgotten all of that?
I shake my head in disbelief. “You know what?” I say, trying to hide the hurt I know he sees in my eyes. “Figure it out yourself.”
“Zo—”
“No,” I cut him off, feeling myself starting to fall to pieces. “I’m not doing this with you.” I point to the keys in his hand. “You got what you came here for, so just go. Leave me alone.”
As if forgetting all about the keys in his hand, he glances down, studying them for a moment and not even pretending to make a move to leave. “Where’s my keyring?” he questions, his tone thick with authority, demanding a response.
I groan, realizing we’re playing the Noah game tonight and that he’s not leaving until he’s gotten exactly what he came for.
I shrug my shoulders and return my hand to the towel, gripping it with everything I have. I arch a brow, not willing to allow this to go down however he thinks it will, even if I don’t quite know how I want it to go down.
“You mean my keyring?” I question, pleased to find he has enough sense not to push me on the whole little warrior thing. “Tell me, just how many times have you snuck in here and stolen my shit? Better yet, why do you steal my shit? Is your little dark soul so depraved of human contact that you need to take my things just to feel something?” I stride toward him, my gaze narrowed on his. “Or did you finally realize that you pushed away the one good thing you had left and now you’re desperately clinging to any piece of me you can get your hands on?”
Noah clenches his jaw, and I know without a doubt that I’ve struck a nerve. “You certainly think highly of yourself.”
He holds my stare, much like he had during dinner, and the air is knocked right out of my lungs. He’s so intense and demanding. His presence alone fills the room with a thick tension, and I have no idea what to do with it.
Raising my chin, I stand just an inch away. So close that I can feel his warm breath brush across my bare shoulder. Lowering my voice, I keep my eyes locked heavily on his. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Noah doesn’t respond, just continues staring as the heat and tension become almost unbearable between us. Goosebumps spread across my body, and I know he sees it. He feels it too. Moving this close to him was a mistake. A colossal one.
My hands shake, and yet for some reason, I can’t find it within me to move away.
“Where’s the keyring, Zoey?” he grumbles, that deep tone filling my room as his stare holds me captive.
“You’re not getting it back,” I tell him, forcing my stare away and breaking his hold on me. I cross my room, certain that if he were to look a little closer, he’d notice the way my whole body shudders under his intense stare. “Feel free to see yourself out.”
Striding into my walk-in closet, I kick the door shut behind me, but when I don’t hear the familiar click of it closing, I glance over my shoulder to find Noah walking in behind me. My back stiffens, and the second he closes the door, there suddenly isn’t enough oxygen in the room.
I turn to face him, ready to tell him to leave, but as he continues toward me, his heated eyes full of determination, the words catch in my throat, and all I can do is watch as he closes the distance between us.
My chest heaves, rising and falling faster than ever as my hands shake at my sides. The tension ramps up, almost to the point of physical pain, and my body screams to reach out and touch him. I’ve never quite felt something so intense in my life. All that exists in the world is him. His dark, intense eyes, his scent filling my small closet, the space closing between us.
My heart thumps erratically, but he just keeps coming, those deep, haunted eyes not daring to look away from mine.
I back up a step, then another, until my back hits the overflowing row of clothes hanging in my closet. I’m desperate to keep the distance between us as I read the intention in his eyes. He’s just as lost as I am, breathing just as heavily, but he’s not stopping, not daring to look away and break this connection between us.
“Noah,” I breathe, a soft warning that neither of us truly hears.
He takes the final step into me, and I press my hand to his chest as if I could somehow force the distance between us, but we both know I’m not about to do that. I feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palm, and a thrill shoots through me, realizing he’s just as affected as I am. He swallows hard, his gaze shifting over my face before finally dropping to my lips.
My stomach swirls with butterflies as the tension in the small walk-in closet becomes unbearable, and I can’t help but wonder if he feels it too.
Of course he feels it. How could he not?
His hand lifts to my bare shoulder, his fingers gently caressing the skin as he trails them right down to my wrist, leaving goosebumps spreading across my body, my skin burning from his electric touch.
Noah’s hand falls away, and just when I think this heated moment is going to slip out of my grasp, I feel his fingers slipping beneath the fold of my towel before brushing against my bare waist. His fingers tighten, holding me there, and despite being completely naked beneath this towel, I trust him with everything I am, knowing he would never push me past my limits.
Noah’s thumb brushes against my waist as shivers trail over my skin, and feeling brave, I allow my hand at his chest to slowly trail down his body, feeling the tight ridges of his muscles below. His chest heaves, mirroring my own heavy breathing, and as my shaking hand finds the hem of his shirt, I slip it beneath the fabric and feel his warm skin under my fingers.
I almost whimper, having imagined this very moment for years.
I’ve seen him without a shirt so many times, hugged him, held him, even kissed him, but it never felt like this. He’s different now. He’s not a boy. He’s filled out with stacks of defined, strong muscle from hours of intense training. He’s a man now, and for the first time in our lives, he’s looking at me like I’m more than just the girl he used to know. He’s looking at me as though I’m the most desirable woman he’s ever seen.
My hand trails right up his body, moving beneath his shirt and exploring every inch before me. His skin is so warm, and a part of me wonders if that has something to do with his proximity to me, but then every train of thought slips from my mind when he moves impossibly closer, inching into me as his fingers tighten on my waist.
I know I should push him away, tell him to leave, and I know the second I do, he’ll obey it like gospel. He’s waiting for me to be the voice of reason, to be the smart one and stop this before we cross a line neither of us can come back from. Because we both know that when he eventually walks away, it’s going to destroy us both. Yet, there’s not a single part of me willing to tell him no.
“Zozo,” he whispers, and then before I even get a chance to bask in the bittersweetness of hearing my old nickname on his lips, he dips his head down to mine and kisses me.
My eyes close as I melt into him, his lips effortlessly moving against mine as though that’s where they’ve always belonged. I open up, allowing him to kiss me deeper, and when his tongue sweeps into my mouth, those damn butterflies cause havoc in the pit of my stomach.
He kissed me so many times when we were kids, but it’s never been like this, never been so full of intense passion, desire, and need. It’s everything I always knew it would be and more. Everything I’d always hoped for, and damn it, I kiss him back with everything I have, not knowing when I might ever get to do this again.
My pulse beats so heavily in my ears that I don’t hear anything apart from the soft, needy groan rumbling through his strong chest. My hand roams up over his shoulder and hooks around the back of his neck as my fingers glide up into his hair, desperately wishing this moment never has to end.
I feel like I’m home. Like the other half of my soul has finally returned to set me free, and it’s the most phenomenal feeling in the world.
It’s enchanting, magical, and undeniably breathtaking.
Noah’s hand at my waist slides right around my back and pulls me right in until my chest is pressed firmly against his. Then just when I thought it couldn’t get better, he steps us right into the overcrowded rack of clothes, parting them to make space, but he doesn’t stop until my back is up against the drywall. My clothes fall back into place, crowding around us like a heavy curtain, dimming the light until it’s nothing but just me and him.
Noah doesn’t dare stop kissing me, and it’s as though he’s been starved for me, and every lavish swipe of his tongue feels like the sweetest surrender. It’s as though he’s trying to make up for the past three years in one mind-blowing kiss.
The longing and hurt that’s built and built has finally reached its limits and explodes around us. It’s cocooning us in this moment and forcing us to act on our most basic needs for each other. That undeniable attraction and overwhelming hunger have taken complete control, and I don’t ever want it to stop.
When he pulls back, we’re both panting, and a part of me just expects him to walk away, only he stays right here with me, refusing to let me go. His forehead drops against mine, both our hearts still rapidly thrumming. “Zoey—”
“Don’t ruin it by speaking,” I beg him, terrified that he’s about to hit me with a long list of why we should never have done that, because if he did, it would surely kill me.
My eyes remain closed, soaking up the feel of his arm wrapped securely around my waist. I’ve never felt so safe in my life because I know nothing bad could ever happen to me while being locked in his arms. It’s like the old Noah has come back, and I don’t ever want to see him leave.
His body presses hard against mine, his thumb still stroking over my bare skin at my waist, and then his lips are back on mine. Only this time there’s control, and his lips only linger a moment before pulling back. He takes a heavy breath and puts just an inch between us before taking my chin and forcing my gaze to meet his.
There’s a longing in his eyes, and I realize it’s taken him great restraint to pull back, but there’s also a lightness I haven’t seen in over three years, making those dark eyes I’ve always loved just that little bit brighter. “Zoey, who the hell taught you to drive a car like a fucking idiot?” he questions, his deep tone like a warm caress that wraps right around me.
A real, heart-warming smile tears across my face, and I feel the apples of my cheeks pushing right up into my eyes as I laugh. My fingers ease out of his hair, slowly trailing back down until my palm presses right against his chest, feeling his heartbeat, and committing it to memory in case I don’t ever get the chance to do this again.
“Who do you think taught me how to do that?” I say, just as the person in question calls out from downstairs.
“Noah, honey. Are you up there?” Aunt Maya’s booming tone fills my home. “It’s time to skedaddle.”
I fix him with a heavy stare, my silence answering his question, and he nods. “I should have known,” he murmurs before going quiet for a moment, not the least bit bothered by the fact his mom is waiting for him downstairs. “It kinda hit me just how much of your life I’ve missed,” he tells me. “I always thought I’d be the one teaching you how to do shit like that.”
I don’t respond because honestly, I had always thought the very same thing, and the fact that never got to happen still feels like a million knives recklessly plunging straight through my chest.
“Noah?” Aunt Maya hollers. “You hear me, kid? Get your ass down here and drive your momma home.”
He still doesn’t make a move to leave, and I find my chest starting to heave, terrified of the moment he walks away, but all he does is hold my stare, his eyes conveying a million messages of pain and unease.
My vision blurs with tears as the inevitable agony swells inside me. “You don’t need to hurt like this anymore,” I whisper into the small, tension-filled closet, his haunted gaze not moving from mine for even a second. “ He’d want you to find peace.”
“Zoey,” he starts, his hand slowly dropping from my waist and making me feel colder than ever before.
“Don’t say it,” I beg, feeling the rejection growing between us. “Just . . . When you finally realize that you deserve to be happy, come back to me.”
He flinches at my words as though I’d physically slapped him, and the agony in his eyes is almost unbearable. “I’m sorry, Zozo,” he murmurs, before leaning back in. He presses a gentle kiss to my temple just as the tears spill over and roll down my cheeks, and before I even get a chance to reach for him, he’s gone.
The closet door clicks closed behind him, and my heart breaks all over again.