Page 24 of Under the Lies

He doesn’t answer as the distance closes between us.

My body trembles. Only this time my reaction isn’t toward anything but him. I’m not like this.

I like rules and everything Noah stands against. I’m always careful and conscious of everything. So why is there a tightness encasing my chest, my lungs?

I shouldn’t like this feeling—this humming in my veins, jolting and waking me up. And yet, as he closes the space between us, I find myself leaning toward him.

With ice-like hands, Noah cups my cheeks, leaning in close.

He’s going to kiss me—

And I’m going to let him.

Noah Kincaid’s nose traces my cheek as his hands move to my throat.

My breath catches as he squeezes, just a little, and I close my eyes.

Only for them to snap back open.

“I’m going to break you.”

Tucked between the bookshelves of the school’s library, I sit at a table with a large stack of books, along with a few empty coffee cups from the little cafe downstairs scattered around me. Wireless earbuds sit in my ear, blaring a 90s grunge song with my pen softly tapping to the beat of the music as I turn the page to the text I’m reading.

It’s after eleven at night and with barely a dent in my to-do list, I’m thankful the library is open until three in the morning. My productivity is crap when I’m at home. But it seems tonight, no matter where I work I’m destined to be distracted.

My mind keeps slipping back to two nights ago when I was on the roof with Noah.

How charged I felt with his stare attached to me. I don’t know what it is about him that is able to tap into a well inside me, bringing out a side I haven’t seen in who knows how long.

I didn’t feel like a void taking up space. I felt daring and bold.

Almost falling was terrifying, but in a way, it was the wake-up call that I needed.

For an entire year, I’ve been feeding the loss of my grandpa, letting it control me instead of allowing myself to mourn. It’s been holding me back when that’s the last thing my grandfather would’ve wanted.

He wanted me to live in all the colors life had to offer, to not be as cold and distant as my parents.

“Your life is a masterpiece forever in progress,” he used to say. “So go make something grand out of it.”

I haven’t.

But I need to.

Noah’s displeasured face pops up in my mind.

He could show me, help me. He already brings out a change in me.

I want to chase the high only danger can provide. The kind only Noah can provide.

The other night on the roof, when he held me in his arms, our faces inches apart, I thought he was going to kiss me.

An absurd concept. Me. Noah. Kissing.

We live in the same world, but we’re on two different planes.

I probably don’t bring out any of the feelings he stirs up for me in him. I’m not even sure he’s capable of feeling anything beyond stubborn annoyance and dark amusement when it comes to me. If it’s possible to reach past his icy exterior.

I want to find out.

---