Chapter 8 Noah #2
This time, a tiny smile slips through. It’s gone as fast as it came, but I catch it.
“I actually really love to cook.” The words come out like a confession. “I used to try different dishes every week. Ciarán and Abbie would come over for dinner, we’d make a night of it.” There’s a nostalgic air to his words.
“You don’t do that anymore?” I ask, interested in every piece of information I can gather about him.
He shakes his head slowly. “Not as much.”
I clear my throat and try to keep my tone level, I don’t want to sound overeager. “We could cook together, invite everyone over sometime. Doesn’t have to be something set in stone every week, but it could be nice.”
He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and looks into his soup, and when he speaks again, I hear the quiet longing in his voice. “That does sound nice.”
It’s not an agreement, but as he eats more soup, I think to myself, that’s something we can work toward.
When we’re done, I stand before he can. “I’ll clean up.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to. Plus, it’s only fair. You cooked, so I’ll clean.”
He hesitates, then nods and lets me. I wash the bowls and set them in the rack, careful to line them up the way I’ve seen him do.
When I turn back, he’s at the kitchen island, his laptop open. The glow from the screen lights up his face. He looks up at me, then back at the screen like he’s debating closing it, but doesn’t.
“You made the website for the gym, right?”
“Yeah,” I tell him.
His tone is nervous when he asks, “C-can I show you something?”
“Of course, what is it?” I say in a relaxed way, but every part of me is dying to know what he wants to show me.
“Online store,” he mumbles after a pause. “For the shop. I don’t know if I’m going to put it live, but…”
He swivels the laptop toward me as he lets out a shaky breath.
The page is simple but clean—green background, a banner of willow leaves, and across the top in soft lettering: Evergreen Books – A Quiet Place of Queer Joy.
It’s beautifully done, not finished, but looks great so far.
“Wow,” I breathe.
Gabe’s shoulders go tense. “I know it’s not great. I’m not the best at doing things like this. It’s a bit…”
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s perfect. Feels right for the shop. Suits the energy of your space.”
He searches my face, like he’s checking to see if I mean it.
“I mean it,” I tell him. “You’ve done a good job so far, it’ll be great when it’s finished.”
He looks like he wants to believe me, but can’t.
He starts talking about the garden behind the store again. I lean against the counter, listening, letting the sound of his voice wash over me. My body is exhausted, but my brain feels strangely awake.
When he trails off, looking embarrassed. “You should do it. All of it. People would love it. I can help.” I encourage.
“Maybe,” he says, barely above a whisper, and closes the laptop.
It’s past two when I blink awake, streetlamp light cutting pale stripes across the sage green walls. I lie still, listening.
A floorboard creaks. A cabinet closes. Porcelain taps against the counter—all of it hushed, like he doesn’t want to be heard.
Gabe.
The sounds go on for another minute or two. It doesn’t sound like he’s pacing or moving things around like last time.
He’s just up. Tiptoeing around his own apartment at this hour.
But why? What keeps him awake so often?
The thought twists something in my chest. It seems like an exhausting way to live.
I stare into the dark until the apartment goes silent again, then reach for my phone on the nightstand. My thumb hovers for a second before I set an alarm earlier than usual.
If he’s going to be awake before sunrise, then so am I.
The alarm pulls me out of sleep while it’s still dark. My whole body protests, but I swing my legs over the side of the bed and pull on clothes anyway.
I drag myself into the bathroom to brush my teeth, and by the time I pad into the hallway, I see him. Standing in the kitchen in a long-sleeve top, shorts and running shoes.
He glances up, surprised to see me. “You’re awake.”
“Yeah,” I say through a yawn, grabbing my sneakers from where I left them by the door. “Figured I’d see if you wanted company on your run?”
He blinks, clearly not expecting that. “You… want to run with me?”
I nod, trying to make it sound casual. “Why not? I could use the cardio.”
There’s a long pause, and I wonder if he’s going to say no, but then he nods slowly. “Okay. If you’re sure.”
I am sure.
We head outside as the sky starts to lighten, the streets still quiet and washed in soft pre-dawn gray. Gabe is already stretching by the front step when I pull my hoodie over my head.
And fuck me.
Those running shorts hit mid-thigh, showing off legs that are way more toned than I’d realized—long, lean muscle, strong without being bulky.
His form is precise as he stretches, every movement is intentional.
His thighs flex when he leans forward, calves taut, the hem of his top riding up enough to show a strip of pale skin over the waistband of his shorts.
My mouth goes dry.
I look away fast, focusing on re-lacing my sneakers so I don’t make an idiot of myself, staring. I have to actually think about hockey stats for a second—anything to stop my cock from reacting like I’m a teenager again. Fuck knows it perked up enough around him back in the day.
Okay, and every day since I’ve moved in.
When I cast my eyes back up, he’s straightening, brushing his hair off his forehead, and I’m hit with the subtle strength of him all over again.
Gabe isn’t built like me or Aiden—he’s not gym bulked—but there’s a kind of effortless capability to him.
A strength you only notice if you’re paying attention.
And I am paying attention.
He glances at my sneakers, lip quirking. “You don’t run much, do you?”
I look down at my feet, yeah, they’re not running shoes. I raise an eyebrow, grateful for something to focus on that isn’t the way his legs look in those shorts. “I lift heavy things. I avoid treadmills like the plague.”
He smiles softly, teeth catching on the corner of his lip as his brow furrows lightly. “Why do you want to run with me, then?”
Because I want to spend time with you. I want to be in your space. I want to get to know you all over again.
“Thought it would be fun.”
That earns me the smallest chuckle before he turns toward the road. “Just tell me if you need to slow down.”
We start at a steady pace. Gabe runs like he does everything else—quiet, controlled, each stride measured. His long legs make it look effortless, his back straight, his arms relaxed, his breathing even.
And of course, I can’t stop gawking.
The shape of his calves in the growing light. The muscles in his thighs working under his shorts. The way the hem of his shirt sticks slightly to his back with sweat when we’ve been running a while.
It’s unfair how good he looks. He’s all my teenage fantasies in the flesh.
Meanwhile, I’m fighting for my life, trying to keep up. Cardio has never been my thing, shin splints come fast, and the incline we hit by the post office feels like a personal attack. My lungs burn. My legs protest. Gabe peeks back every so often, clearly holding back his full pace.
“You good?” he calls over his shoulder.
Oh, totally wonderful, just trying not to die here. Also, can’t stop staring at my best friend’s brother. Wondering how soft his hair would feel between my fingers. What his lips would taste like.
“Thriving,” I huff. “Absolutely crushing it.”
He snorts, and when we stop at the next traffic light, I bend over, hands on my knees, sucking in air like it’s oxygen-flavored protein powder.
Gabe looks far too amused. “You find my suffering funny?”
He presses his lips together, trying to hide his small smile I’ve already become obsessed with, and then—deadpan, in the perfect mock bro voice—says, “I thought you worked out, dude.”
He’s teasing me. It’s so unexpected, so perfectly delivered, I burst out laughing.
And then it happens.
A breath, a glance, and then—he smiles.
Not the careful one he usually offers. No, this is something else entirely. This is sunlight on water. This is warmth made visible. This is Gabe, unguarded.
His eyes—those soft, mossy-green orbs are lit from within, the kind of shimmer that makes me think of summer forests and morning dew and the first hint of spring after a long winter.
They crinkle at the corners, those delicate crow’s feet etched by time and tension, morphing into something close to joy.
His scar pulls slightly, tugged by the stretch of his smile, enough to make my heart stutter.
It’s a reminder. That he’s been hurt. That someone dared to dull the light he was capable of giving.
But now, in this moment, it doesn’t diminish his beauty.
It makes it brighter. Braver. Like the smile is something he deserves.
His lips part, and the corner of his mouth tilts just slightly higher on one side. His teeth flash, and it hits me, square in the chest, that I’ve never seen anything more breathtaking.
It’s soft. And devastating. And it makes me feel like I’ve been let in on something sacred.
He tilts his head as it happens, like he’s trying to hide it from me.
And still, I can’t breathe. Can’t move. Just watch, wide-eyed, hoping I don’t do something stupid to make it vanish.
But it stays, lingering for a few heartbeats, and in those few seconds, I see the man beneath the sadness.
Not the cautious bookstore owner with shaking hands and a voice like a whisper, but Gabe—the beautiful boy I grew up with, who can smile like that, wide and full and utterly unaware of the spell he’s casting on me.
It’s dawning on me how totally fucked I am.
I drag a hand down my face, forcing myself to breathe like a normal human and not someone who just had a religious experience on a random street corner.
Gabe tilts his head toward the next block. “Come on. Before you pass out, and I have to carry you back.”
“Wouldn’t say no to that,” I mutter to myself as I fall into step beside him. My legs feel wobbly, but I can’t bring myself to care. Not when I keep catching that faint curve of his mouth every few steps—it’s still there.
Gabe walks with his hands tucked into his sleeves, strides long and steady, hair sticking to his temple. He looks at ease right now, like the run really did untangle something in him.
I sneak another glance, the faint flush on his cheeks, the way his breath still comes just a little fast. The sight does something low and dangerous to me, and I look away before my brain can start filling in details I shouldn’t be imagining.
When the bookstore comes into view, Gabe gives me a little nod and jogs away while I slip off toward the gym. He doesn’t say anything, just looks back once before unlocking the door and slipping inside.
I stand there for a second longer than I should, watching the door shut.
My legs ache. My lungs burn.
I want to run with him every morning.
I’m still a little dazed when I get to the gym, hoodie damp against my back, hair sticking to my forehead. My legs are dead, but I can’t stop thinking about how Gabe looked when he finally relaxed.
The gym smells faintly of fresh paint. Zeke is in one corner, lining up kettlebells by weight. Jules is across the room, perched on a plyo box, scrolling on their tablet, probably checking the first week’s class schedule.
At the front desk, Aiden is flipping through membership forms, brow furrowed. He watches as I approach, one eyebrow raised.
“Did you run here?”
My dislike for cardio is well known. I don’t know what it is, but it’s always been a struggle for me. Which is why I stick to lifting.
Until now.
“Yeah, with Gabe.” I drop onto the stool behind the counter with a groan. “Your brother is a machine. I thought I was gonna die halfway up the hill by the post office.”
Aiden snorts, clearly enjoying this. “Told you he ran every day, what did you expect?”
“Yeah, well.” I twist open a bottle of water and guzzle half of it. “He barely broke a sweat. Don’t know how he does it.”
Aiden’s face softens. “Running clears his head.”
I nod, leaning my elbows on the counter. “Makes sense. He seemed… lighter after.”
Aiden studies me for a moment, then sets the forms down. “Good. He needs more of that.”
He nods, more to himself than to me, then reaches for the forms again. “I’m glad you two are becoming friends.”
Guilt twists sharp under my ribs. Fuck, maybe I should just tell him how I feel about Gabe.
Aiden’s my oldest friend, and he asked me to look out for his brother.
Be a good friend. Not wonder how it would feel to touch him.
Not stare at him and obsess over his body while we go for a run.
But I think if he knew my feelings ran deeper than that, he’d be okay with it.
I roll my eyes at myself nothing to actually tell him. We’re friends. That’s it.