His answering smile is so sweetly fond. “This is home.”
I reach up and trace my finger along the arc of a waterfall in one of the bent photos.
“Where to next?” I ask. Dan’s joke about his inability to keep Noah rooted in one place echoes in the back of my mind again, despite my efforts to shove it down.
“No idea,” he says with a laugh. “Any suggestions?”
I pat the wall of the van with teasing affection. “Think she could make it in the streets of New York?”
His eyes shine with amusement, and he turns onto his side until he’s fully facing me. “To visit you, Sadie—I’d brave it.”
I let my gaze skate past Noah’s face to the window behind him. Rain no longer drums against the glass but instead dribbles down in slow streams. The storm’s passed. It takes me a moment to realize that Noah has stopped speaking. He lies with his head propped on his fist, considering me thoughtfully.
His words are soft, daydreamy. “What are you thinking about?”
I turn to mirror Noah’s position, and our knees knock together in the small space. I don’t know if it’s the rush of adrenaline from running through a downpour with him or just the fact that we’re trapped together in our own bubble, waiting for the world outside to slow down—but the words rise to the base of my throat, begging me to let them out.
The uncertainty comes in a wave again, twisting my stomach and making me feel foolish for even considering asking.
But then I think about what I’d said to myself when I was feeling braver and drunker.Roll for initiative.
I’m lucky we’re lying so close, because I can’t get my voice to come out louder than a whisper. “Tell me I didn’t imagine it. What almost happened Saturday night.”
When Noah brought me back to Liam’s, I’d thought there was something in that moment on the front porch. A spell half-cast, a magic ritual left incomplete. But when viewed through the lens of four drinks and the beauty of a twilit evening, anything could feel magical. I remember his hesitation, when I had leaned forward and he’d stayed still—
But then, very slowly, Noah’s hand edges forward to cover mine. “You didn’t imagine it.”
I open and close my mouth several times, and when I’m able to speak again, all I manage is a quiet “Oh.”
Noah presses on. “You were drunk. I didn’t want to…” He pauses, tilts his chin down until his eyes are absolutely level with mine, so that he’s sure I’m meeting his gaze. “I wanted to be sure. I wantedyouto be sure.”
“I’m sure.” I say it too quickly. I don’t even think.
“But how sure, Sadie?” His tone is so tender. He reaches up to smooth down the wet curls stuck to my forehead, tucking them neatly back behind my right ear. His fingertips linger on the side of my neck and trace slow, soothing circles. The interior of the van suddenly feels very, very warm. “After this summer, you’re leaving.I might be, too. We could ride it out, see how things go. But if we try this…are you really okay with that kind of uncertainty?”
His words cool me down. Am I? I want to insistyes, of course!,to jump in with the same abandon as when I raced out into the rain with him. I want to slip back into that moment from Saturday night and pull him toward me without pause. There’s something about Noah that makes my brain turn off, that has me wanting to act on instinct and trust my gut feelings before I have a chance to talk myself out of them.
But he’s asking me to slow down and think it through. He’s hesitating, too.
Maybe he thinks this is a bad idea.
And maybe he’s got a point.
Every aspect of my life feels uncertain right now: my job prospects, my bank account, and now this wild, wanderlust-filled boy. I’ve been managing to take things day by day, but I’m not sure I can handle any more unpredictability. So I tell him the only truth I can: “I don’t know.”
It’s impossible to tell whether he’s disappointed or relieved. “Think about it. We can talk when you’re ready.” His small smile is gently apologetic. “My shift starts soon anyway.”
“…Okay.”
I glance at my phone to check the time—which turns out to be the worst thing I could do.
I can’t look away, once I’ve seen it. The email notification is a bright bubble on my lock screen.
To: Josephine Brooks
From: Addison Marshall
Subject: Interview Invitation with Paragon Media
