Page 96 of Remember Us This Way

“You’re not going to that party,” he states.

“Excuse you, resident asshole, but I’ll have you know that I can go to any damn party I want,” I tell him, as my brows furrow. “Wait,” I say, my heart starting to race. “How the hell did you know I was in my bed?”

A gentle knock sounds on my bedroom window, and my head snaps up to find Noah perched outside like some kind of creepy stalker, but the hot kind the girls always fall for. “Like I said,” he rumbles. “You’re not going anywhere tonight because you’re all mine.”

I squeal, undeniable happiness surging through my chest as I throw myself out of bed, my phone catching in the blankets and flying across the room. I race to the window with overwhelming emotion pulsating through my body and sending hot tears streaming down my face.

I struggle with the broken lock, and before I know it, the window is open, and Noah tumbles right through it and into my arms. The force of his momentum sends us both tumbling to the ground. His arms lock protectively around me so that I don’t get hurt, and before I can even gasp, his lips are on mine.

Noah kisses me as though it were the very last time, savoring every second of it as I do the same. I take in the feel of his muscled body weighing down on mine, the feel of his tongue sweeping into my mouth, the sound of my racing pulse beating so loudly in my ears. My hands shake as I struggle to pull him closer, and damn it, no matter how long I kiss and hold him, it’ll never be enough.

His hands roam over my body, each of us desperate for more until I can’t take it a second longer and pull his shirt over his head. Noah is more than happy to oblige, and before I know it, I hear the familiar crinkle of the condom wrapper. It all happens at warp speed, and then finally, he’s right there, easing the ache I’ve held for him for way too long.

When we’re both exhausted and panting, Noah drops his forehead to mine, his hands so soft against my bare skin. “Fuck, I’ve missed you, Zo,” he tells me.

“If that’s how you show a girl you missed her, then you ought to miss me some more,” I tease.

He laughs as his lips drop to mine. “Then just wait ’til you see how I show a girl exactly how I make up for missed time,” he tells me, sending an electrical thrill shooting through my body and lighting up every inch of me. “As for now, I think I need to get dressed, sneak back out your window, then go down to knock on the door.”

I grin wide, knowing damn well that it won’t be long before Mom comes up here and knocks on the door to let me know dinner is ready. “I think that’s a smart idea. This whole college thing must be knocking some sense into that brain of yours,” I tell him, watching as he reluctantly climbs off me and offers me a hand, helping me to my feet. Then just to be the perfect idiot I’ve always known him to be, his hand comes down in the perfect arc to my ass, the sound like music to my ears and making me jump.

He grins down at me, not daring to move his hand off my ass as he produces my panties in his other hand. “I think you’ll be needing these.”

I snatch them right out of his hand, and he laughs as he quickly gets dressed. Then all too soon, his lips are on mine, telling me he’ll see me soon, and as he slips back outside my bedroom window, I can’t possibly wipe the smile off my face, not even if I tried.

With my window closed and locked, I get myself dressed and hurry down to the bathroom, needing to splash some water over my flushed face. As I close the bathroom door behind me, the lack of energy hits me hard, and I sway, falling right into the bathroom vanity. My hip slams into the porcelain sink as I try to catch myself.

I whimper as agony tears through me, and I lower myself to the ground, needing to breathe through it as my head spins.

I close my eyes, trying to find myself, when Mom’s voice sails through the house. “ZOEY,” she hollers, her tone telling me she’s just found Noah at our front door. “Someone’s here to see you.”

I cringe, knowing she expects me to race down the stairs with the force of a whole army, but there’s no way I can pull that off right now. Both Mom and Noah will see right through me. They’ll know something is wrong.

“Give me a sec,” I call back, hoping they can’t hear my voice waver through the closed door.

Mom and Noah are talking downstairs, and a second later, I hear Hazel’s heavy thumps outside the bathroom door as she races out of her room and down the stairs, her high-pitched “NOAH!” booming through the house.

I grip the vanity for balance as I pull myself off the ground, and a throbbing pain shoots through my hip. There’s no way I’m going to get this one past Noah.

I get control of my spinning head while trying not to think about what this could mean, but it’s hard not to fear the absolute worst. Instead, I focus on trying to enjoy having Noah home, even if it’s only for a short while.

Creeping out of the bathroom, I make my way to the stairs, following the sound of voices coming from the entryway. As I reach the top of the stairs, his eyes come to mine, and his whole face lights up as though he’s never been so happy in his life. Every fearful thought of this constant dizziness and lack of energy fades away, leaving nothing but him.

A wide, booming smile breaks across my face, and I want nothing more than to throw myself down the stairs. “Look who the cat dragged in,” I tease, inching my foot down the first step, only to come to a startling halt, agony blasting through my hip.

A pained whimper slips through my lips before I get a chance to stop it, and I watch as Noah’s brows furrow, his smile fading away, replaced with pure concern. “What’s wrong?” he rushes out, already halfway up the stairs as Mom peers around Noah’s big frame from the bottom of the stairs.

His hands are on me in seconds, roaming over me as he tries to figure out what the hell could have happened in the last ninety seconds.

“It’s nothing,” I tell him, catching his hands and bringing them to a stop in front of me before he accidentally touches my hip. “Just a little water on the bathroom floor. I slipped and rammed my hip into the sink, but I’m fine.”

The second the word hip comes out of my mouth, he pulls his hands free from mine and grips my shirt, easing it up before slipping his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and pulling down the edge of it. He takes a look, and as I see the way his eyes widen, my heart races, regretting not waiting a second to check it for myself. “How bad is it?”

“Fuck, Zo. You need ice.”

“Shit.”

When Noah tells you an injury needs ice, that means it’s borderline catastrophic. At this point, I should avoid looking down because I probably don’t even have a hip left. Noah is usually the type to just shake it off. He thinks Band-Aids are a waste of time and bruises are a trophy of whatever ridiculous thing you did to earn them.

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