Chapter Twenty-Seven Noah
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Noah
Noah was sure he was going to die today. First the cold, and now this. Mia’s face burned tomato red. Her eyes flamed twice as murderous as she glared up at him.
Noah moved away and grabbed his shirt from where it hung by the fireplace.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was just trying to get the door.”
Mia didn’t say anything until he’d put on his shirt. Then, in a low, vaguely concerning voice, she said, “We should probably
stay here for the night. I can’t drive in this kind of weather.”
“It’s okay. Neither can I. It’s probably going to get worse, too.”
Mia put her head in her hands and groaned. “Damien is going to kill me. And I don’t even want to think about what the SPC
is going to do when they find out about this.”
Noah held his hands up in the air. “It’s okay. As far as I’m concerned, you did nothing wrong. In fact, you saved my life.”
“What if word gets out that you and I are spending the night together? In the cabin that belongs to the owner of the lodge we’re renting for five days?”
Mia was panicking. That much was clear. Noah glanced around the cabin for something that could distract her. But all he saw
was old lady furniture, and he didn’t know anything about that.
“No one has to know,” Noah replied, looking at Mia again. “This is just between you and me. If someone asks, we can say we
found a vacancy at an inn or something. In separate bedrooms. And Ms. Merritt doesn’t have cameras inside the cabin. I checked.”
At the mention of bedrooms, Mia’s face scrunched up with even more panic. “How many bedrooms does this cabin have? The roads
won’t be safe until they clear them tomorrow morning.”
“One. But I can sleep in the living room.”
“You’re too big to comfortably sleep on the lounge chair!”
Noah placed his hands on Mia’s shoulders, looking right into her eyes. “Mia, breathe. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m okay. That’s
all that matters for now. We can deal with the rest when we’re back in the lodge. And you can take the chair, since you’re
smaller. But only if you don’t mind sleeping in the living room. I’m good with whatever.”
He’d hoped to comfort her, but Mia’s eyes widened.
“Wait,” she said. “Are you . . . touching me? Willingly?”
Noah blinked, looking down at his own hands. They were indeed calmly resting on top of Mia’s shoulders.
“Oh,” he said, stepping away. “Yeah, I was. Wait. How do you know I don’t like physical contact?”
“Well, the footage from earlier today, for one. That was painful to look at.”
Noah winced. “Oh, you watched it.”
“Yeah,” Mia said with an apologetic frown. “But that’s not the only time. You didn’t shake my hand when we met at Ground Smoothie.
And when you did touch me to help me up, you looked unhappy.
At first, I thought it was because you couldn’t stand me, but you looked so uncomfortable the first few times Celine touched you, too.
You seem to only be comfortable with physical contact when people give you bro-hugs or fist bumps. Or when
you and Celine kissed. Maybe you just hate being taken by surprise? Which, I can kind of relate with, since I don’t like surprises
either.”
Noah shook his head in awe. “You’re really observant.”
She shrugged. “All I’ve been doing since I got here is watching people from behind the camera. I’ve been watching every contestant,
not just you.”
“Right.”
Mia didn’t say anything else, didn’t probe and prod him to ask why he hated being touched.
And Noah was glad. Because if he was being honest, he had no idea why.
At first, he’d thought it was because it’d been too long since he had any substantial amount of contact with another human being.
But after today, he was beginning to realize it was more than that.
In the comfortable silence that formed between him and Mia, Noah finally put together the words he needed. Softly, he said,
“You’re right. I don’t like being touched, but only when someone takes me by surprise. Like, I’m perfectly fine at a concert
or other crowded areas because I expect it, you know? If I had to guess, it’s probably because my life back home wasn’t always . . . peaceful. I hate it when people
raise their voices, too.”
Mia’s face softened. “Oh, I’m sorry, Noah.” After a moment of thought, she clapped her hands in a decisive manner. “We don’t
need to include the part with you and Celine in the forest if you don’t feel comfortable with us airing it.”
Noah let out a dry laugh. “How will you guys explain the production delays then? Just include a title card saying I randomly
disappeared?”
“I don’t know. But we can figure it out later. That’s not what’s important.”
Noah stared down at Mia, fully taking in the sincerity in her kind eyes. His heart beat a bit faster as he looked away. “You
can keep it in. I specifically came on this show to challenge myself. And to show a part of myself no one’s seen before. If
people unfollow me because I had a panic attack, then so be it.”
When Mia didn’t say anything in response, Noah turned back to see that she was staring up at him again, quietly biting her lip. In this present moment, she looked so adorable that Noah didn’t know what to do.
“What?” he asked softly.
“Sorry if I’m totally out of line for suggesting this,” she said, “but have you considered therapy?”
Noah let out a sharp laugh. There was the Mia he knew. As blunt as ever. A grin slipped onto his lips.
“It’s been suggested to me, yes. But I never thought things were bad enough for me to need it. Today made me realize I might,
though.”
Mia made a face, as if she was wondering why he was smiling while talking about therapy. He got his face back under control as she replied, “Therapy isn’t something you can only go
to when things are terrible. It can help you in other times, too. Seeing someone helped my younger sister, Cara, when she
was having a hard time adjusting to high school.”
Noah nodded as he sat back down on one of the turquoise lounge chairs.
At the beginning of every year, Noah liked to pick up one new activity, whether it was longboarding or learning to use a particular
editing software. Perhaps next year’s new venture should be therapy. The idea both excited and intimidated him at the same
time. It seemed pretty timely, especially with all the changes he’d soon face with graduation.
Mia, who’d gone over to sit at the dining-room table, suddenly asked, “Wait. What about when you helped me up at Ground Smoothie? Or when you refused to shake my hand?”
Noah frowned. “What about it?”
“You looked really uncomfortable then. And it wasn’t like you weren’t expecting to make physical contact with me.”
Just thinking about what it was like to hold Mia’s hand for the first time, the unexpectedly pleasant warmth of her skin against
his, made Noah’s face burn. Desperately, he hoped Mia wouldn’t notice. “Oh. That’s not why . . .” He hesitated, and then quietly
said, “I don’t dislike touching you, Mia. Not at all.”
“What . . .” She paused, as if putting two and two together. And then Noah wasn’t the only one who was blushing.
Before he could dwell on the rosy pink of Mia’s cheeks for long, though, she quickly turned her back toward him. She started
typing on her phone, so Noah sat back in his chair, relaxing his muscles against the upholstery.
He must have dozed off, because when he next opened his eyes, Mia was sitting across from him on the other lounge chair. Her
expression was unlike how he’d ever seen it before, her dark-brown eyes and cherry-red lips soft instead of being tense and
rigid.
Her face immediately hardened when she noticed he was awake.
“You can go into the bedroom and sleep, if you want,” she said flatly, getting up from her seat. “You’ve had a long day.”
Noah stiffened. “No, it’s okay. You can sit back down. And thanks, but I’ll go to bed when I want to. Unless you want to sleep
now.”
“Nah.” She settled back into her chair, and they stayed there for a long moment, face-to-face in the warm glow of the fire
like that night at the firepit. Noah’s heart raced at the familiarity.
“By the way, did you want to talk about what happened with you and Celine?” Mia asked. “Like, what caused the confrontation
in the first place. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but . . . I got Celine’s side earlier today. So I can also listen
if you want to tell me your side, too, to make things fair. Feel free to vent.”
“Vent?” Some of Noah’s old walls came back up at the foreignness of the word. In theory, Noah knew what the word “vent” meant.
He’d encountered it on American TV shows and had heard girls say the word around campus. But this was the first time anyone
had offered to listen to him “vent” before. Back home and at the fraternity house, he was the one who usually listened.
Noah stared into the fire. “There’s not much to talk about,” he finally said. “Celine and I aren’t compatible. And I’m a jackass.”
He braced himself, expecting Mia to agree with him. But she just leaned forward. “And why is that?”
Noah let out a slow breath. The familiar pressure was starting to build up inside him again, making it hard for him to shape his thoughts into concrete words.
But he managed to say, “Before the show, I accidentally led Celine on by replying to her messages and comments. To me, I was just doing my job. Responding to people boosts engagement. But she thought I was being genuine.”
Mia groaned. “You do do that a lot. Flirt with people, I mean. Which is why I never read the comments of your videos.”
Noah raised his eyebrows at Mia. She wasn’t looking at him, instead staring into the fire like he was a few seconds ago. Her
cheeks were red, but he couldn’t tell if that was because of the heat or something else.
“Wait. How many of my videos have you watched?” he asked. “Do you follow me? I thought you just watched my stuff to do research
on me.”
“Let’s go back to the original topic,” she said, blatantly avoiding his questions. “You apologized to Celine, though, right?