Page 40 of After All This Time

Shit, I hope the universe didn’t hear that.

Once I collect myself, I slowly open the door.

Noah’s sitting on my bed with his head down. I can’t get a read on him. I can tell he’s embarrassed though. Boy, I can’t imagine why.

“Hi,” I say.

His head lifts while his hands are resting in his lap.

I meet his gaze, his blue eyes burning a hole into me.

Oh God, I can’t breathe.

I run my fingers through my hair because I don’t know what else to do.

“You still wear this?” He digs out the ring box that’s hiding in between his legs, taking out what’s inside.

I lean against the doorframe of my bathroom. “Did you go through my shit without asking my permission?”

His mouth opens, lips flattening and eyebrows furrowing. “Curiosity got the best of me.” He shrugs his shoulders.

I sit down next to him, snatching the ring out of his hand. “I’ve been wearing this ring for the last eight years. I never take it off unless I need to shower because I don’t want to get it wet. Water will wear down the silver.”

He stops me before I can slide the ring onto my finger. “Give me your hand.”

Barely moving a single muscle, I narrow my eyes. I’m reluctant to give him my hand.

He reaches out, gently yanking it in his direction.

He looks up at me then down at my hand as he slides the ring on my finger. This would be a proposal if he was sliding it onto my left hand.

Thank God, it’s not.

Even though it’s on my finger, Noah doesn’t let go of my hand.

My brain is short-circuiting as I take a deep gulp, swiping my hand away as fast as I possibly can. “Um…so…you’re staying at the house?” I tilt my head, staring into his eyes just enough to make him uncomfortable.

He meets my gaze. “I thought we already established this.”

He’s so close to me I can feel his body heat, staring deep into my eyes.

The hairs on my arms are standing up, and my body feels limp. I slide farther away, creating some distance between us. “Well, then, if you’ll excuse me, I have some writing and editing to do. Get the hell out.” I shoo him out of my room.

He stands behind the doorway. “If you need me, I’ll be here.”

“Trust me, I won’t need you.”

I slam the door in his face, sitting down at my desk. I need to get some writing done, but all I can do is stare at the blinking line on Google Docs.

Fuck, not this again. Stop mocking me, you piece of shit.

I’ve been sitting here for an hour now, still staring at the dumb blinking line. My fingers aren’t tapping on any keys because there aren’t any words flowing out of my brain.

How is it that I can't write right now? My brain is a jumbled mess, that’s why.

Getting up off the chair, I close the lid to my laptop pretty hard out of frustration because I can’t get any words onto the page.

Time to go out and find some inspiration in one of my favorite places to exist.

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