Page 83 of Make Me Dream of You

“Livvy,” he says.

My fork goes clattering to my plate. Oh, fuck. “Huh?”

“Will you pass me the syrup? Please.” He gestures to the bottle of syrup directly next to me, a dark chuckle in his voice.

Right, right. I pass him the syrup and he leans over to take the bottle from my hands, his fingers grazing over mine as he takes it, lingering there for a second. Skin on skin.

He flashes me the little devil tattoo on his wrist.

It’s him. It really is him. I laid awake for hours last night trying to convince myself that it wasn’t true, that I’d misread what he had said. He isn’t 2Horned and he doesn’t know about my extra-curricular activities as Angel. He doesn't know.

Everything I know about 2Horned and Noah runs through my mind like a slideshow.

Noah is busy running his shop. He’s successful. But he doesn’t go out. No women in his life that I know of. He doesn’t sleep well. He never talks about his family, except for Wood.

2Horned is lonely, doesn’t do much other than work. He’s suffered from depression on and off and has had insomnia since he lost his family—his father, mother, and brother all died in a car accident several years ago.

Fuck.

What if it is true? What if it’s him? The man I’ve crushed on, lusted over, dreamt of, for the last eight years, is the man I’ve been sexting with for the last eight months?

The things we’ve talked about doing with each other—doing to each other. Blood throbs in my veins, heating my cheeks and warming me all over.

He looks up at me from under his thick lashes. He knows. He knows what I’m thinking. He can read my mind and every naughty thought that’s running through it about him, about us.

“We better get going before it gets too hot.” Wood stands, starting to clear the table. “Are you sure you won’t join us?” He’s looking at Noah, but Noah doesn’t take his eyes off me.

Noah grins slowly. “Not a chance.”

I snuck away upstairs while everyone was running around getting their hiking boots (Jake) and sunscreen (Macy) and grabbing snacks (Wood) and filling water bottles (Spencer) and flasks (Bex).

They all left toward the trailhead half an hour ago in Wood’s SUV, and I’ve been lying on my bed pretending to read ever since, heart pounding, sweating. The look in Noah’s deep blue eyes consuming every thought.

“Can I come in?” he says from the hall. No knock.

I take a deep breath. “Yes.” My voice sounds weird. Why does my voice sound weird?

I sit up as he walks in. It feels like I’m watching him in slow motion, or from outside of my body. It doesn't seem real. The way he’s looking at me, like I’m prey. Like he’s about ready to pounce. To devour me.

He gently takes the book I forgot I’m holding out of my hand and sets it on the bedside table and then sits next to me.

“Livvy.”

“Noah.”

There’s silence. Nothing but the invisible buzzing electricity in the air between us.

“It’s you,” I say.

He nods.

I take his face in my hands, looking back and forth between his eyes. Knowing. I know him. I know this man. And he knows more about me than probably anyone else.

He closes his eyes, letting out an exhale and lets me hold the weight of his head before turning and nuzzling into my hand, kissing my palm with the softest touch.

He looks back up at me and it’s like all the sorrow in his eyes, I finally understand.

“I know,” I say. “I know.”

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