Chapter 23 A Kiss To Remember #2
I glance up—and meet Tex’s stare from across the hall. He’s at a table with the others, angled just so, a spoon held loosely between his fingers. Noah looks from me to River with a flash of curiosity—and Luca, for once, looks serious, jaw set, drumming one knuckle idly against the table.
They aren’t even pretending not to look.
I shift in my seat, aware of every inch of myself. River leans in closer with a big smile, voice low as he says, “You okay?”
I nod too fast. “Yeah, I’m good.”
A snort escapes Dakota. “Clearly. You were glowing before you even sat down.”
River gives me a look. “That a compliment?”
“It’s an observation,” she says, popping a grape in her mouth, but she winks at me behind his back.
I force a small smile and try not to look across the room again—but I can feel them. Like gravity. Like a loaded wire running straight through the space between us. My lips still tingle from Tex’s kiss. I ache from the way I—
“Isobel,” River says softly.
I blink. “Yeah?”
He smiles, gentle this time. “You zoned out there.”
“Just thinking,” I say. About too many things. About too many people.
Dakota kicks me under the table—friendly, playful—and I manage a real laugh.
But when I look up again, Tex is still watching.
River slings his bag higher on his shoulder as we walk the curved hall toward the east wing. The morning sunlight filters through the tall glass windows, casting strips of light across the polished floor, but all I can feel is the heat of his hand brushing mine.
“So,” he says, giving me a sidelong glance, “dinner later? Or are you still trying to pretend I’m not charming?”
I laugh, low and a little surprised. “You’re… mildly charming. Jury’s still out.”
He grins, pleased anyway, and slows in front of the classroom door. “I’ll take mildly. For now.”
I hesitate, unsure if he’s going to lean in again like last night.
But before I can overthink it, he bends and kisses me—its soft, with a warmth that stays just long enough to make my chest flutter.
He smells like mint gum and clean laundry, and for a second, I let myself lean into the safety of it. The simplicity.
When he pulls away, I open my eyes—and freeze.
Tex and Noah stand just down the hall, both with unreadable expressions, both clearly having seen everything.
Noah is the first to move, raising his brows and muttering something under his breath to Tex. But it’s Tex’s eyes that lock onto mine. Not furious. Not even angry.
Just burning.
His jaw flexes once, then twice, like he’s holding back words he knows will cut. His arms are folded tight across his chest, muscles tense under his shirt like he’s barely keeping himself in check.
“Morning,” River says, oblivious to the tension, giving them a nod before turning back to me. “See you after?”
I nod, but my gaze is stuck—trapped in the weight of Tex’s silence.
River squeezes my hand and walks off, whistling, and I swallow hard as the silence stretches between me and the two boys still standing there.
Noah’s voice breaks it. “Well, that was… something.”
I turn toward the door without a word, but Tex’s voice stops me cold.
“Still with him?” he asks. Low. Controlled. Dangerous.
I turn slowly, staring back at him. “Excuse me?”
His eyes drag over me—mouth parted, breath sharp. “Just wondering how many sweet words it takes to make you forget.”
“Forget what?”
His laugh is humorless. “Everything.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and say nothing. If I speak, I might scream. Or worse—admit how much his words sting.
Noah shifts beside him. “C’mon, man.”
But Tex doesn’t move. He just looks at me one more time—like I’m someone he doesn’t recognize anymore—and then walks into the classroom.
Leaving me standing there with my pulse hammering and my stomach twisted into knots.
By the time I step into the classroom, my pulse has only just started to settle. My lips still tingle faintly, not from River’s kiss—but from the fire Tex has lit in its wake.
I don’t understand him. I don’t understand any of them.
“Miss Ashthorne,” the instructor’s voice snaps me out of my head. “You’re with Vexley today.”
I turn toward the back corner of the room where Noah is already at one of the workstations, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. His bright green eyes lift when I approach, unreadable as ever, but I catch the faintest twitch of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Rough morning?” Noah says, sliding a laptop my way.
“You saw.”
“Everyone saw.”
I pull out the chair beside him and slump into it with a sigh. “Great.”
He taps something on the screen. “Don’t worry. This place has a two-day attention span, max. By tomorrow, someone will have set the science building on fire or streaked through the lunchroom or whatever rich kids do to stay entertained.”
I don’t smile, but I’m close.
He’s watching me a little too closely, looking at me over the rims of his glasses. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I mutter, even though my chest is tight and my stomach flutters from Tex’s words.
Noah doesn’t press. Instead, he turns the laptop toward me, launching whatever simulation or assignment we are supposed to work on.
I study the map, noting a pattern I didn’t see.
“You’re good at this,” I say.
He shrugs. “I like systems. Patterns. Code makes more sense than people do.”
I nod.
“So… what’s the deal with River?”
I blink. “What?”
“I mean, he seems decent. For a normie. You into that whole golden retriever boyfriend thing?”
“Are you seriously asking me that in the middle of class?”
He smirks. “Just making conversation. Trying to keep my partner from spontaneously combusting under Tex’s death glare.”
I give him a flat look. “You’re not funny.”
“I’m hilarious. You’re just in denial.”
Despite myself, I crack a tiny smile.
And maybe Noah sees it—because his gaze softens, just a little.
“I know we give you hell,” he says after a beat. “But… not all of us are trying to break you.”
I look at him. “No?”
“No.” He tilts the screen back toward himself. “Some of us just want to see what you’ll do back.”
Class ends faster than I expect, mostly because working with Noah is surprisingly easy. He didn’t talk too much, didn’t make things weird. He was just… steady. And he noticed things—small details I wouldn’t have caught on my own.
When we submit the assignment, he leans back in his chair and stretches, his shirt pulling slightly to reveal a sliver of lean stomach. I look away quickly.
“So,” he says, standing and casually slinging his bag over his shoulder. “You grabbing lunch?”
“Eventually.”
The corners of his mouth curl into a lazy half-smile. “Need company?”
My brows furrow. “You want to eat with me?”
“Why not?” he says. “We worked well together. And if I’m seen with you, maybe someone’ll finally try to hack me out of spite. It’s been boring lately.”
I snort, but I wasn’t used to this—attention. Especially not the kind that made my skin warm in confusing ways.
As we walk out of the classroom side by side, I catch movement at the end of the hall. My eyes flick up—and there he is.
Tex.
Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, jaw tight. His eyes are locked on me.
Well—us.
He pushes off the wall slowly, not saying anything as we pass, but the heat in his stare scorches me from the inside out.
Noah notices. Of course he does.
As we step outside, he leans in just a little closer, his voice a low murmur by my ear. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say Ward’s about two seconds from punching me in the face.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Oh, I’m not. But I think you should know,” he says, his voice dropping just slightly, “I don’t really care who’s watching.”
I turn to look at him, unsure whether to be amused or unsettled. He wasn’t flirting like Luca—smooth and disarming. Or like Tex—hot and electric. Noah’s interest is quiet. He makes me feel like he’s already thought about every outcome and is still choosing to move toward me anyway.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Because I like puzzles. And you, Isobel Ashthorne… you’re a beautiful one.”
I stare at him, throat dry, unsure how to respond. And behind us, is the weight of a stare still burning into my back.