Twenty-Five
“I’ll go camping with you.”
“Hm?” Noah’s face is buried in the scoop neck of my paint-spattered tank top, his thigh pressing me against the door to the supply closet while his knee eases my legs apart. I don’t know how he can breathe with his nose so deep in my cleavage, but the way his tongue swirls around my nipple sets my nerves on fire in an ungodly way, so I don’t complain.
“I said—” I inhale sharply at the feel of his teeth tugging. Gently, then harder. “I said I’ll go camping with you.”
That gets his attention. He straightens so suddenly that his forehead knocks against my chin. I wince, but it’s not his fault. The closet is cramped.
“Really?” His tone is a weird mix of doubtful and hopeful. It makes his pitch go high.
“Yeah,” I say. Why not? “I think it could be fun. I’ve never been, but I want to go with you. Are you working this weekend?”
“No.” He looks thoughtful as he drags a knuckle down my chest, from the base of my throat down between my breasts, ending at my belly button. “We could go this weekend.”
I won’t lie. I have ulterior motives. Ever since we were interrupted by the college kids, my mind’s been swimming with thoughts aboutwhat might have happened if we’d been left completely alone and gone on just a bit longer. Would Noah have continued whispering in my ear, his fingers moving inside of me until his touch had me dissolving like thousands of bubbles chased to the surface? Or would he have slipped his shorts down lower, lower until—
It’s probably for the best that we were interrupted, all things considered. Indecent exposure and all that. That being said, it does have me aching to be alone with him—more chances to make up for lost time. But this week is turning out to be a scheduling mess, full of “When can I see you again?” and “When are you free?” on both of our parts.
I told Liam I’d go to the game store with him after he’s done working tonight. He wants another set of dice, even though he’s got hundreds.
Tomorrow Dan has me staying late, experimenting with the new food menu he’s launching soon. Don’t hold your breath—so far, it’s all shit. Wednesday?
Fuck. I’m supposed to catch up with my mom that night on FaceTime. Thursday?
I didn’t say that Wednesday is also the day of my next interview with Paragon—this time with the whole team. I know there’s a good chance I’ll be a mess of emotions afterward, and I don’t want to see him then.
When I’d suggested Thursday, Noah had shaken his head. He’d broken my gaze, and his lips had curled into a little smile. “I can’t Thursday,” he’d murmured into my ear, “I’m working on a secret recipe. I’ll show you soon.”
Eventually we agreed on meeting over the weekend, but this is the first time I’ve proposed solid plans. After a week of breathless make-out sessions cut short by Noah’s work schedule, I need assurance that our next date is set. I need something to look forward to. Noah is the type to spontaneously come up with a plan the morning of, but I’m always desperate for early details to key in to my Google calendar.
“Do you have an idea of where we could go? To camp?” I still haven’t even left Heller yet.
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Do I need to bring anything? Like—a tent? Bear spray? Fire?”
“Sadie.” He says my name so playfully—half laugh, half groan—as if I’ve said the funniest thing in the world. He hides his grin by burying his face in my hair. “No, you don’t need to bring anything. You don’t need to bringfire.I have plenty to share.”
I pinch the side of his thigh. “Don’t mock me. This is my first time, I want to be prepared.”
He runs his hand over the crown of my head. “I’ll make sure we’re prepared. I’ll teach you everything.”
There’s another reason why I want to go camping, too. On our hike, I felt like I got a glimpse of a side of Noah I’d never seen before. During D&D, or at Alchemist, or whenever we’re together in public, there’s this boisterous and infectious enthusiasm to him that lights up every room. He has a talent for effortlessly pulling anyone into conversation, making them feel warm and welcome and listened to. He’s a great big ball of sunshine.
But when he was leading me through the trees, his hand laced in mine, he was quiet for the first time. Peaceful. He didn’t have to put on a show for anyone, regardless of how much he embraced playing the part. He didn’t have to put on a show for me.
He justexisted.
Watching him during our hike reminded me of where I go when I paint. It’s a separate pocket realm where my thoughts are gentle, where my anxious spirals loosen up and become nothing more than soft ripples atop the still pool of my mind. Sometimes, if I really hit the flow, I don’t think of anything at all. I am only an extension of my brush; I am color and movement, gliding along.
It had been so long since I’d found that peace. Drawing exclusively smut and anime fanart over the past few years hadn’t exactly gotten me there.
But the mural does. Painting it gets me out of my skin, especially as I’ve focused on adding the details this week. It helps me breathe.
I want to see what that looks like for Noah, too. I want to peel back his layers of paint and see what lies beneath.
“What are you thinking about?” Noah hums, nuzzling the crook of my shoulder.
