Elizabeth
I found comfort in helping out. In fact, it felt… grounding. Human. After everything I had experienced, everything I had done—this felt like a glimpse into a life I had only ever viewed through a distant lens.
“I’m sorry if we got a bit loud,” Sherry said, offering me another plate with a twinkle in her eye. “We can get a little rowdy sometimes.”
“I actually enjoyed it,” I replied sincerely. “It was nice.”
She shot me a knowing glance but didn’t press the matter. Instead, she simply nodded and handed me another bowl. As I scrubbed the dishes, my gaze drifted to the window above the sink, and I caught my breath.
In the reflection, just beyond the kitchen doorway, I spotted them.
Noah’s dad had his arm wrapped around Sherry’s shoulders, swaying her gently to the rhythm of the music.
They weren’t exactly dancing—just moving together as if they had been doing it for years.
It was a dance without words. She laughed softly as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, leaning into him with a trust that spoke volumes.
And then it struck me.
That quiet, steady love… the kind that didn’t require grand gestures or perfect timing. The kind that was woven into everyday routines. Into washing dishes. Into moments like this.
I wanted that. Not just someday. Not in theory.
But... truly. Deeply. Someday—with someone I wouldn’t have to shield myself from.
I blinked, momentarily taken aback by the thought that had surfaced. My hands slowed on the plate I was holding. Then I turned, and there was Noah.
He was crouched on the living room floor, his niece climbing all over him, giggling as if he were the best jungle gym in the universe.
He was beaming—really beaming, not the reserved, guarded smile he usually wore around me.
His hair was tousled, his jacket carelessly tossed aside, sleeves rolled up past his elbows.
He let her tug on his arm, effortlessly lifting her onto his shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And something within me cracked open.
He didn’t notice me watching. He was too engrossed in her laughter, too busy making her squeal with delight as he pretended to stumble dramatically onto the couch. The room lit up with her joy, and so did he.
And I...
I felt something shift inside me.
It was gentle. Gradual. But so certain it left me breathless.
I was falling in love with him.
Right there, in his mother’s kitchen, with my hands still damp and a sponge forgotten in the sink.
It wasn’t a grand revelation. He hadn’t done anything extraordinary. He just existed in this moment, in this warmth, revealing a side of himself I rarely got to witness—and it shattered every wall I had tried to build between us.
I had seen him at his lowest. I had witnessed him cold, bloodied, burdened with guilt.
But this—this was the part he kept hidden from the world, and I found myself falling for him because of it. Not in spite of it. I turned back to the sink before he could catch my eye. My heart was pounding fiercely in my chest, and my hands trembled.
But for the first time in a long while…
I didn’t feel afraid of what lay ahead.
════ ?★? ════
The night air was cooler than I expected when we stepped out of Noah’s house. The stars blinked softly above us, and the scent of garlic and lemon still clung to my hair from the kitchen.
I glanced back one last time before we reached the curb.
Sherry stood at the doorway, arms folded over her chest in that loving, mom-way. She smiled at me as if I were already part of the family.
“You’re always welcome here, sweetheart,” she called gently. My heart did a quiet little flip.
“Thank you,” I said, meaning it more than I knew how to express.
Noah held out my helmet like he had earlier that night, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth. But I could tell—he wasn’t rushing to go. Neither was I.
We rode in silence most of the way back to my house. Not the awkward kind. The kind where you feel full. Like saying too much would break the spell. His back was warm beneath my hands, his scent familiar—leather, rain, and something darker I could never quite name.
When he pulled up in front of my house, I didn’t move right away.
Neither did he.
I slowly climbed off the bike, pulling off the helmet, and turned to him with a grin that felt just a little too wide, a little too giddy.
“I, um…” I cleared my throat. “I wanted to ask you something.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Yeah?”
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
“My mom is throwing this… thing. It’s ridiculous, honestly. A formal birthday gala, because apparently turning twenty-six in a ballroom with champagne fountains is some kind of social rite of passage.”
His brow lifted, amused. “Let me guess—black tie? Caviar? String quartet?”
“And custom ice sculptures oh and don’t forget the masks,” I deadpanned.
He chuckled, eyes lighting up in that way that made my chest tighten.
“So what’s the ask?”
I bit my lip.
“I want you to be my date.”
The amusement in his eyes flickered, softened into something warmer.
“You sure?” he asked gently, as if he didn’t quite believe it.
“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t,” I said. “It’d mean a lot. And…” I shrugged, suddenly shy. “I want you there.”
He didn’t answer right away. He just looked at me for a long moment. Then he nodded once, firm and certain.
“Then I’ll be there.”
I smiled, heart stammering like it always did around him, and turned toward the door.
But something inside me pulled to a stop.
I hesitated on the second step.
Then I turned around.
He was still there, watching me, hands in his jacket pockets like he was trying not to get too close—like he was always holding himself back.
Not this time.
I walked back down the steps, closing the space between us in a few quick strides. I didn’t think about it too long. I didn’t question the timing or whether it was smart or safe or right.
I just reached for him.
And kissed him.
His lips were warm, a little surprised at first—but then he melted into it, one hand coming to rest lightly at my waist like he didn’t want to break me. But he didn’t hold back, not really.
It was soft. Deep. A little breathless.
And when I finally pulled away, his eyes were still closed for a second longer than mine.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” I whispered.
His voice was low, rough with emotion. “Me too.”
I smiled, even though my heart felt like it could burst.
Then I turned back toward the house.
“Goodnight, Noah.”
He didn’t say anything at first. I was almost to the door when he called after me—quiet, but certain.
“Goodnight, Sunshine.”
I closed the door behind me with shaking hands and a smile I couldn’t wipe away. Something had changed.
Something had started, and this time, I wasn’t running from it.