Page 25 of Noah

I turned sharply and headed toward the storage building behind the cafeteria, heart pounding in my chest. My palms werealready clammy, and I wiped them on my jeans as discreetly as I could.

The faint smell of bread and roasted meat lingered in the air as I pushed the door open and led Jackson inside. Rows of neatly stacked boxes lined the walls, their labels staring back at me like accusations.

I needed to do something, anything, to avoid the conversation.

I grabbed one of the boxes, making it seem like it was the most pressing task on earth, and hefted it onto the trolley.

"You can just stand over there," I said, not meeting his eyes.

Jackson didn’t listen. Of course, he didn’t.

“Need help?” he asked, stepping in front of the cart, close enough that I couldn’t ignore him even if I wanted to.

“It’s okay,” I said, not even looking at him. “I’ve got it.”

He stepped forward anyway, picking up a box like I hadn’t said a word.

I clicked my tongue in annoyance, the sound sharp in the quiet space. “I said I’m fine.”

“And I said I’m helping,” he shot back, calm but firm.

We worked in silence after that—not real silence, but the kind that buzzed with tension, every movement charged.

My heart pounded every time I caught him in my peripheral vision, and I hated that I couldn’t control it.

Jackson broke the stillness first. “Is everything okay?”

I paused, my hands gripping a box. “What?”

“With you.” He stepped closer, his tone steady. “And with us.”

The words hit harder than they should’ve, my throat tightening as I turned away to busy myself with another box.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jackson wasn’t deterred. “It just feels like… I don’t know, like you’re avoiding me.”

I froze briefly before forcing myself to keep moving. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“Noah.” His voice softened, but there was an edge of knowing that made lying impossible.

When I didn’t respond, he tried again. “Is it about Colton?”

My head snapped up. “What? No!”

Jackson raised his hands, grinning faintly. “Got it. Forget I asked.”

The grin didn’t last. His expression shifted, something deeper creeping into his features.

I let out a slow breath, shoulders sagging. “It’s not that,” I muttered. “It’s just… there’s a lot riding on this summit. I want it to go smoothly.”

Jackson tilted his head, studying me like he was reading between the lines. “That’s not all of it.”

My stomach churned. He always did this—saw through me when I wished he wouldn’t.

“I don’t want to distract you,” I admitted, my voice quieter.

Jackson blinked. “Distract me?”

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