18. Noah
NOAH
The next morning, I caught myself grinning like an idiot. Cooking eggs? Done while grinning. Making coffee? Done while grinning. Editing photos using an app Macey recommended? Done while grinning.
I was turning into such a sap. A part of me understood it was inevitable, though. In fact, I thought it showed emotional intelligence to openly admit to myself that it was happening.
Falling for Macey Monroe? Done while grinning.
We obviously had an unconventional relationship—one that was languid, shifting a little more and more toward something every day. I liked the pieces of us that were malleable. It meant we were constantly changing for the better.
I didn’t realize how much I needed someone close until Macey had forged a space for herself. I suspected the new space close to my heart was five-foot-three and wouldn’t stretch to accommodate anyone else.
She pushed me, encouraged me, took care of me—all the things I felt I could only give to others but never receive. Macey gave them to me without a second thought.
I liked that there was room for me to fit close to her, too. Neither of us was perfect, but if I could encourage her to become the person I knew she was capable of…well, that made me feel pretty good about myself.
The fake dating scheme was doing well. Macey’s articles on Roamer’s Digest were taking off, which no doubt fueled the fire that her boss aimed in her direction.
A boss should want to see their employee succeed, but from what I’d observed, all Victoria wanted for Macey was to crash and fail.
Macey normalized it as the red flag rose higher in my mind.
During these last few weeks, Macey and I were invited to almost identical events.
Though we both were selective in what we attended, that only meant she was gaining recognition in the community, which would be a huge asset for her blog.
Macey’s Miles was doing well for a new blog, and I had no doubt it would only continue to grow.
Roamer’s Digest wasn’t invited to cover the opening of Sushi Nirvana—exclusive lounges weren’t exactly up their alley—but Macey loved sushi. So when the Sushi Nirvana’s public relations team asked me to bring Macey, I knew we had to go.
“How many rolls do you think I can eat before I explode?” Macey asked as soon as we were seated at the table of Sushi Nirvana.
She placed her hand on the table next to mine, and it was like a tangible representation of everything I felt.
It danced on the edges of her fingertips—whatever we could be, it lingered on her outstretched hand.
There were mere inches between our palms, and I could reach through the space to grasp hers, but it felt different now.
The urge to always touch her, to always exist in the same space as her, tore me up from the inside.
There was only one barrier to clear, unfiltered honesty, but I wasn’t sure if I had the strength to break through. The fear of rejection lingered in the back of my mind like smoke on clothing .
I could hear a voice in the back of my head, maybe mine, that suggested that was the main reason why I preferred to tuck away any chance of getting close to anyone.
I’d made a habit of dumping water over the sparks of a relationship before it could ignite.
But the ember between Macey and me raged to flames.
And I burned.
Realizing that Macey was still waiting for an answer, I stuttered over a response, “With that attitude, they’ll have to roll us out of here.”
She laughed. “Who would have thought you were so good at bad puns?”
Not me.
Small chatter scattered throughout the lounge as servers brought out samples on small, round plates.
I didn’t know anything about sushi. Serving fish raw should be criminal, in my opinion, but Macey had provided me with a top ten ranking of her favorite rolls on the walk here, so I knew she was excited.
In between bites, Macey said, “Did I tell you about the drama between numbers five and fifty-seven at the 5k?”
“No.” I attempted to lift the roll with chopsticks, but it fell off and into the soy sauce. Why did I bother? “Tell me.”
“Okay, so you know how…” Her voice trailed off.
My eyes still set on the roll that mocked me, I asked, “What?”
A second passed.
“Calculator Cal is here,” she said in a small voice. Curious. Disappointed.
I lifted my head to observe the man who had just entered Sushi Nirvana and was making his way to the press table.
He looked around thirty, with the kind of hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial—thick, glossy, and wavy.
His smile was perfectly crooked and disarmingly sincere, but it faltered when he spotted Macey .
“Who is that?” I asked. “I don’t see a single calculator on him.”
Macey placed her chopsticks on her plate. She suddenly looked sick. “My coworker.”
An ID badge sat around his neck, like the one I wore, and as he grew closer, I noticed it said Roamer’s Digest .
“I can’t believe it,” said Macey, stunned. “Victoria told me there weren’t any press events this week.”
“She lied to you?”
That was it.
I didn’t care that there wasn’t any proof that Victoria was behind one of the harassing Instagram accounts. I would confront her myself if I had to.
Calculator Cal looked for an ID on Macey, only to realize there wasn’t one. Plus-ones didn’t have IDs.
To his credit, instead of taking the empty seat at the end of the table, he beelined toward us, his expression tightening with every step.
“Macey?” His voice was high-pitched, panicked. “What are you doing here?”
She twisted in her seat to meet Calculator Cal’s eye. “I was going to ask you the same thing. You’re covering this for an article?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, smoothing a hand down his tie like it might help him recover some composure. “Honestly, I was surprised Victoria suggested me instead of you, but I figured…”
“Figured what?”
“Since your articles have been doing so well, and you started a blog, you’d quit Roamer’s Digest .”
Macey reared back, her waist colliding with the table. I instinctively scooted an inch closer. “I would never do that. And how did you know I started a blog?”
He scoffed, gripping the back of the nearest chair a little too tightly. “I do competitive intelligence, remember? I keep track of every blog that could be a competitor.”
Macey’s fingers clenched around her napkin, twisting the fabric as her breath hitched. “You didn’t tell Victoria, did you?”
“Of course not,” he said, lips pressing into a thin line. “But it seems like you need to figure out your priorities.”
The words landed hard, and I could see the way Macey swallowed them down, forcing herself not to react.
Experience made her an expert at masking her emotions around coworkers, but I wasn’t a coworker—I could see the way her shoulders curled in, the way her jaw tensed, the way the light in her eyes flickered just a little dimmer.
This wasn’t just about Victoria giving the assignment to someone else. It was about Cal’s jealousy, his resentment wrapped in a smug, professional tone.
Calculator Cal gave us a tight smile, waved, and stalked off to claim the only empty seat on the far side of the table.
Macey exhaled slowly, staring at the untouched drink in front of her.
I leaned in, lowering my voice. “Hey.”
She blinked, looking up at me.
“Want me to ‘accidentally’ spill a drink on him?”
It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make her laugh, even if just for a second.
Macey let out a heavy sigh and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
“Me neither,” I said. “You can’t work for them anymore.”
“I can’t ?” She turned a lethal eye toward me.
Walk it back, Noah. “You can do whatever you want, of course,” I hastened to clarify. “But I don’t think you should. Your blog has real potential. Besides, your coworkers are jealous, your boss is trying to ruin your career, and you look miserable just thinking about it. ”
“Calculator Cal didn’t do this out of jealousy,” she said. “He was just doing what he was told.”
She notably didn’t correct my two other statements.
I hesitated. Should I tell Macey about my suspicions that Victoria was one of the ones leaving rude comments? The Fishly541 account had left more comments recently, and the tone of the comments matched the tone of Victoria’s articles.
But also, Macey had already been hurt by so many other anonymous messages online, I didn’t want to twist the knife.
“Macey, you should know?—”
Just then a server dropped another plate on the table between us. Macey’s eyes brightened. “Unagi! My favorite.”
One thing I learned from watching Friends reruns was that unagi was a state of total awareness. I shivered watching Macey shove one into her mouth. Maybe I never finished that episode.
After finishing the plate in record timing, Macey turned to me. “I thought that would make me feel better, but I was wrong.”
Suddenly, it became too much. The constant reminders about what kinds of comments waited for us on Instagram. The surface-level small talk around the room. The coworker who had unknowingly taken an opportunity away from Macey.
Too. Much.
I shoved my chair back and stood, offering a hand to Macey. “Let’s get out of here.”
She stared back at me. “Don’t you have to post like, five photos tonight?”
I didn’t give a shit about any of that, but for the sake of my manager Ezra’s anxiety, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and snapped a few pictures. They looked like they were taken by a five-year-old, but oh well.
“Done,” I said. “Now let’s leave before they bring out more raw fish.”
We meandered slowly back to my apartment .
All things considered, Macey was reacting well. It was good to know she handled bad news and others’ mistreatments better than I did. I just had to press on the issue one more time.
“Why are you so afraid of quitting Roamer’s Digest ?” I asked, peering down at her. “For real?”
“For real?” She shot me a small smile. “I’ve always done what I thought was the right move.
I wanted things with stability that helped me achieve my goals.
Quitting a job to focus on a blog I just started sounds terrifying.
” She nearly tripped over the sidewalk. “Also, what would my parents think? I’d be crushing my mom’s dream. ”
“Right.” I sighed, remembering what she had told me about her mother. That she had always dreamed of working for a magazine but never had the opportunity. Seemed like she was living vicariously through Macey. “What does your dad think?”
Macey laughed. “Matthew Monroe has always been a free spirit. He always told me to listen to my heart. He’d probably find a way to justify any decision of mine.
“They do want me to be happy. But Dad has also said that being happy requires some level of comfort. They were both teenagers when I was born, so they were always making things up as they went. I love them, and I know they love me, but I can’t help but think I ruined their dreams.”
“Ruined?” I slowed my pace, turning to face her. “Scribbles, you’re not capable of ruining someone’s dreams. You are the dream.”
She let out a soft scoff, kicking a loose pebble along the sidewalk. “But they wanted to travel the world,” she said, exasperated. “Mom wanted to work for a magazine. I’m not sure what Dad wanted to do, but I doubt it was to spend nights changing diapers while his friends went to bars.”
I reached out, brushing the back of my hand against hers as we walked.
“That just means that when they got you, they got new dreams. Better ones, too. It’s not your fault.
” She didn’t look convinced, her brows still furrowed in thought, so I added, “Next time you see them, ask them about their dreams. I think the answer might surprise you.”
She didn’t say anything, just stared straight ahead, her lips pressed together like she was tucking the thought away for later.
The city stretched around us, a blend of quiet and movement.
We were nearly at my apartment now, just a block away.
I could already see the warm glow from the lobby lights spilling onto the sidewalk, feel the familiar weight of my keys in my pocket.
But for some reason, I wasn’t in a rush to get inside.
“Have you put any more thought into applying to the University of Illinois Chicago?” she asked.
“I had a meeting with the professor the other day.” I missed the metro and had to sprint a few blocks to be there on time, but I made it. “She thinks I have a good chance of getting in as a transfer student on rolling admission for the fall semester.”
“Oh my God!” Macey came to a sudden stop, and since we were still holding hands, so did I. “Noah! That’s amazing.”
Her eyes were wide with excitement, her fingers tightening around mine. The rush of her reaction hit me harder than I expected, like warmth spreading through my chest. I wasn’t used to people celebrating my wins like this—like they mattered.
She took a step closer, her other hand still clasped around mine, her enthusiasm radiating between us. The space between our bodies felt smaller. I swallowed, suddenly a little unsteady.
“Being back in the classroom reminded me of my passions,” I admitted, my voice quieter now. “I think it’s time for some new goals.”
Macey’s expression softened, her fingers trailing up to my face as she pressed a warm palm to my cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”
Her touch was gentle but grounding, like she knew exactly how much this meant to me without me having to say it. I leaned into her hand instinctively, caught in the moment, caught in her.
And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, she lifted onto her toes, closing the last bit of distance between us.
Our lips met in a kiss that was soft and unhurried. The only thought left in my head was finally .