Page 68 of Echoes of Us

“Come on, Noah,” I said quietly, trying to keep my tone soothing.

He shook his head, frustration evident in his movements. I stood up and gestured for him to follow. Reluctantly, he did, and we walked by the pool, getting out of view from the rest of the team.

“Why are you mad at me?” I asked once we were out of earshot of the others.

“I’m not mad at you.” He avoided my gaze.

“You’re mad, Noah. I can tell,” I insisted.

He huffed. “I don’t get why you can’t tell them. They’re your friends, and Chase knows you’re gay, so maybe more of them do.”

I had a feeling this was the real issue. “You said I didn’t have to worry about that,” I reminded him.

“I know, but he’s into you. That’s very different from a teenage crush,” he said.

I chuckled. Judging by his face, that was the wrong move.

“I’m sorry, Noah. Chase is not into me. He’s the straightest man on the planet. He just likes to tease me and has serious boundary issues, but he is not into me,” I assured him, but he was still pissed. “Even if he was, I don’t like him anymore. Idon’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a short step away from being completely obsessed with you. I’m not looking at anybody else,” I told him earnestly.

“How are you so sure? That he’s the straightest man on the planet?”

We stared at each other while I tried not to make this into a bigger deal than it was.

“He kissed me once,” I admitted, seeing the self-righteous anger mixed with the triumph of being right flaring in his eyes.

“Ha!” he exclaimed. “That’s not straight man behavior, Atty.”

I scowled. “He said he wasn’t into it. That’s straight,” I argued. “Why are you picking a fight with me over this?”

“I’m not picking a fight with you,” he said, his tone defensive.

“Yes, you are. You’re picking a fight with me over Chase, of all people,” I retorted, exasperated.

“I’m not. I’m just pointing out the undeniable fact that he’s into you,” he argued back, his eyes narrowing.

“He’s not into me, Noah,” I whined, feeling like we were going in circles.

“Then why did he kiss you?” he demanded, his voice low but intense.

“He realized I had a crush on him. You know I can’t pretend when I like someone, and I always played with him. He caught on, kissed me to try it out, and told me he wasn’t into it. That was literally all that happened, and that was two years ago,” I explained, watching his frown deepen. “How am I making it worse?” I asked, feeling helpless.

“If he knows you’re gay, why can’t you tell him about us?”

“Because he has no impulse control. He’d tell everybody! I had to beg him not to last time, and he barely got away with it,” I said, my voice getting louder. I took a deep breath tocalm myself. “Why are you so mad at me? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Because I’m jealous, Atticus. Fuck. Do I have to spell everything out to you?” he snapped angrily.

I stood there looking at him, stunned. This was the first time he had said something like that to me. I was used to people getting exasperated with me over things like this, but he had never done it.

“That was mean, Noah.”

The anger left his face slowly. He parted his lips, probably to keep arguing, but I was done listening. I turned and walked back to sit with the rest of the team. Ezra gave me a look, and I crossed my arms, pressing my lips together. Noah sat beside me, but I refused to meet his gaze. Chase started talking to me again, and I tried to focus on his words.

Chase always smiled at me while he spoke and kept reaching out. If I didn’t know him, I’d be confused about his behavior too. Chase was just like that: always smiling, outgoing, and touchy. Then it hit me—I did have a type. That was probably what was pissing Noah off. He probably hadn’t contemplated the idea that I had liked someone similar to him before. Honestly, I doubted there was anybody like him, at least for me. It might look on the outside like Chase and Noah were alike, but they weren’t.

Chase was brash and rough around the edges, and Noah was anything but. Even being a slob, he couldn’t stop himself from looking elegant. He was graceful and delicate in the way he moved and carried himself. They were both outgoing, but Noah was quick-witted and had just the right amount of arrogance, whereas Chase was bursting with it. They looked nothing like each other—Chase was blond and blue-eyed, shorter than me, but with a stockier build than Noah. He was objectively good-looking but not even close to how attractive Noah was. Even in how they treated me, Chase had spent our entire highschool term pointing out my social inadequacies, and Noah had always celebrated them. He had even called me an angel once, which was embarrassing to even think about, but it had been sweet. You know, until now, when he scolded me for it.

Chase’s hand closed over my wrist, pulling it towards him.

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