Page 71 of After All This Time

ME

i love you so much. i don’t deserve you

BELLA

I love you too. Like I said, you deserve the world. Stop texting me and go live out your own version of the romance novels you read. Update me when you can. I need to know what happens

We don’t find love, it finds us.

I’m trying not to get my hopes up that there’s a possibility that Noah could have feelings for me.

What if he doesn’t? What if this is all in my head?

God, I hate being an overthinker. My brain is in a constant loop which never fucking ends.

Shit, I need to get dressed.

I look at my reflection in my floor-length mirror.

My hair is a fucking mess. I don’t have the patience to make it look pretty so I just throw it up in a high ponytail. That, and it’s hot as shit outside.

There’s a knock on my door.

I open it to see Noah standing in a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants.

We’re both looking at each other’s outfits.

“I swear this is a coincidence,” he says.

I purse my lips. “Yeah, a major coincidence.”

“We’re not matching exactly. You’re wearing shorts.”

“We’re wearing the same colors though,” I point out, looking down at my white tank top and gray cotton knit shorts.

“I can put on a different pair of sweatpants,” he suggests.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

noah

Fuck, she looks so beautiful.

Her hair is up in a ponytail, tendrils framing her face. Her shorts are highlighting the crap out of her insane curves. And she looks so good in white.

Honestly, she looks good in everything. She could wear a goddamn trash bag and look absolutely perfect.

“You don’t need to change,” she says before she breaks out into a small fit of laughter.

I literally can’t help but smile when I’m around her now. Admitting my feelings for Dani, even though it’s only been to myself, has unlocked this side of me where it’s impossible for me to ignore the little things. I notice the crease she gets in between her eyebrows when she smiles and the different kinds of laughs she has.

“Do you want to take my car or yours?” I ask.

“Can we take mine?”

“You’re answering my question with a question.” I grin.

“I’m sorry.” She fiddles with her fingers, looking down at the floor.

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