28. Noah
NOAH
“How is this romantic?” Daphne asked, trailing me into my bedroom where I rummaged through the overflowing laundry basket in the corner.
“Because we’re both runners,” I shot back, trying not to gag. Why did all my socks smell like they’d been fermenting in a swamp?
Daphne snorted. “And that’s romantic how ? You’re both just going to end up disgusting messes.”
I guess laundry had been placed on the back burner recently. Years of losing one sock to the washing machine really lowered my total count of socks owned.
“I like Macey as a disgusting mess as much—if not more—than I do when she’s dressed up,” I said, finally fishing out a pair of socks. Clean? Debatable. Not actively offensive to my nose? Good enough.
As I slipped them on, Daphne leaned against the doorframe, clearly unimpressed. “Have you considered if she feels the same?”
“She saw me fall off the side of a boat,” I replied, straightening up. “Pretty sure sweat won’t be a dealbreaker. ”
Daphne froze mid-sip of her water. Her metal bottle slipped from her grasp, clanged against the floor, and rolled until it hit the wall. “Wait— what ?”
Oh, right. Had I never mentioned that?
The look on her face was pure gold, and I braced myself for the endless stream of mockery this revelation would undoubtedly inspire. Daphne didn’t disappoint. “You fell off a boat ?!”
I shrugged, casually tying my laces like I hadn’t just unleashed an eternal inside joke upon myself. “You heard me.”
Instead of picking up the water bottle, she collapsed to the ground and stayed there. “I never understood your fake relationship, and every day I realize I understand the two of you even less.”
“You don’t need to understand.” I grinned, taking a quick look in the mirror. Hair? Ready to get wind swept. Outfit? All black, no leather jacket. “Besides, you’re too young to date.”
“What?” Daphne rushed to her feet, banging her knee on the nightstand in the process. The banging sound didn’t faze me, though. I was going on a real date with Macey, and nothing was going to ruin my mood. “I’ve already dated like?—”
I shoved my hands over my ears. “Don’t tell me.” A panicked thought just occurred to me. “Oh, fuck. We never talked about…”
This time Daphne was the one to shove her hands over her ears. “Oh my God. Are you going to say sex? Stop it. Stop it right now.”
Did I mess this up as a caregiver? I never once brought up safe sex or…intimacy in any sense of the word. What if Daphne had gotten pregnant? Did schools still teach kids how to roll a condom onto a banana?
I cleared my throat, probably looking as awkward as I felt. “It’s important to stay safe?—”
“I know!” She waved her hands up in a ‘stop there’ gesture. “I grew up with social media and went to public school. You think I don’t know how to use a condom?”
The flush on her cheeks mirrored the one I felt on mine. “Okay, I just wanted to make sure. I should have brought it up earlier.”
Her eyes softened. “First of all, I’m glad you didn’t. Saved us both the embarrassment. Second, not having this talk with me doesn’t make you a bad caregiver. You know you’re the best, right?” Her nose twisted. “Even when you’re a disgusting mess who doesn’t have clean socks.”
I swung an arm around her. “Thank you.”
“Okay, get out of here before you have to tell Macey you were late because you tried to give your little sister the sex talk four years too late.”
Halfway to the door, I nearly tripped. “Four years?”
“Go!”
Chuckling on the elevator ride down, I attempted to scrub this conversation from my memory forever.
Macey and I agreed to meet at the park halfway between us, the same place we’d run into each other months ago. This time, I’d be running with a recovered ankle and with a pretty girl by my side. What else could I ask for?
She was already there by the time I jogged to the entrance.
I couldn’t fathom how Daphne jumped ahead to the “disgusting messes” phase because right now all I saw was beauty blinding me.
Not to mention, those leggings did wonders for her ass.
All I wanted to do was peel them off her and take her to?—
Focus, Noah.
That could wait.
I couldn’t risk screwing up the first real date between me and Macey.
“I’ve got to say,” Macey said as I neared, “this feels a little like you copied the first fake date I planned. ”
She was kidding, I knew, but there was something hidden underneath the surface. An unsaid question. This isn’t another fake date, is it?
“There are a few key differences,” I said. “One of which being that I can actually run.”
Her eyes lit up as she assessed my ankle. The brush of her fingers against the skin there still sent goose bumps across my body. It’s nice to know that some things won’t change.
“It’s healed?”
“Thanks to consistent wrapping and rest. Who knew?” I joked.
Macey laughed as she scuffed her toe against the pavement. “Certainly not you. What would you do without me?”
Although the question was teasing, I took it seriously.
“Nothing,” I answered honestly. “I would have done nothing. I had no idea when we flew to Aruba how lucky I was to have your unfiltered honesty.”
I was by no means a romantic relationship expert. I was probably the furthest thing from it. Honesty was at the heart of relationships for me. I couldn’t bear to listen to someone who only wanted to talk with me because of a follower count or because of the clout they hoped to gain.
“Wow.” The upfront honesty took her by surprise, but I was pretty sure it pleased her too. “I don’t think I can take too much credit. You would have gotten there without my words.”
“Maybe.” It was possible. “But it would have taken me a lot longer.”
When Macey turned her head, a stray hair stuck to her cheek. She tucked it behind her ear. “Speaking of taking long. Are you ready to lose?”
“Lose?”
“I’m planning to beat your time, Hansley.” She grinned.
Then she took off running .
Shit.
“Wait!” I yelled a few paces behind her. “You have to take the path with the spiky bushes!”
Macey listened and turned in the right direction. There was that, at least.
My ankle had healed, sure, but without my stamina, I felt like an amateur again. My legs burned, my lungs screamed, and I couldn’t help but wonder: Why did I ever think this was fun?
Then it hit—the familiar adrenaline rush. My chest expanded, and I remembered exactly why I loved running: it made me feel invincible, like I could take on the world.
I picked up my pace, closing the gap between us. Fortunately, I hadn’t planned for us to become the “disgusting messes” Daphne had predicted. In fact, we were just a few steps away from?—
Macey skidded to a halt, her braid whipping around her neck as she turned. “What is this?”
I grinned, my chest still heaving.
Beneath the shade of a sprawling oak tree, a picnic blanket lay spread out, its red-and-white checkered pattern bold against the vibrant green grass.
A wicker basket sat open, revealing its contents: golden croissants, wedges of cheese, plump grapes, and slices of crisp apple.
An ice bucket nearby cradled two bottles of sparkling water, their condensation catching the sunlight like tiny jewels.
“You didn’t really think our first date was going to be running a 5K, did you?” I asked, gesturing for her to sit beside me against the tree.
Her expression softened as she approached. Her fingers trailed over a single red rose in a small glass vase. She sat down, glancing up at me with a smile that made my pulse quicken in a completely different way.
“I don’t really care what we do,” she said softly, her voice carrying a weight that stopped time for a moment. “As long as we do it together.”
“I know,” I said. “But I wanted to do something special. Something we haven’t done before. Like a symbol of something new.”
“I love it.” She reached for a sparkling water and cracked it open with one hand.
And then…silence.
I spent so much time thinking about setting up this date and getting everything ready that I never considered what to talk about. Not that I ever needed to think about stuff like that before.
This was awkward. Was Macey feeling as awkward as I was right now?
Think, Noah, think. What should we talk about?
University? No, I didn’t want to make it seem like I was bragging.
Her blog? Maybe. I wanted to know more about it.
Our expectations? I didn’t even know how to bring that up without sounding like a weirdo.
“I’m glad some things don’t change,” Macey suddenly said, setting the can down onto the blanket.
“Huh?” I frowned, unsure if I understood. Was she talking about us? I thought we were on the same page that we didn’t want things to stay the same. Things were different now, which I appreciated.
“In front of your fans, you’re this super cool dude,” she continued, her voice light and teasing, “but in front of me, you’re still a nervous wreck.”
My jaw dropped. “I’m not a nervous wreck! I told you. I got over the minuscule nerves I had around you.”
She stretched out her legs, crossing one ankle over the other, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “So that wasn’t you mentally debating topics of conversation before speaking?”
How the hell did she do that?
“No.”
Her gaze didn’t waver, her eyes locking onto mine with that familiar knowing look. I could feel the weight of it, like she was waiting for me to crack.
And, of course, I did. It only took about as long as it took me to break into the box of croissants.
“Fine,” I muttered, finally giving in, “maybe I was a little nervous. Only because I don’t want to screw this up.”
I dropped a croissant onto a napkin and handed it to her.
As I waited for her response, I shoved half of my croissant into my mouth.
How did I go so long without eating croissants?
Maybe I focused too much on egg whites and protein in the morning.
Were these buttery pastries the key to true happiness?