I close my eyes, clenching my jaw at how badly I’m messing this up.
“Of course we’re friends, Noah,” I tell him. The words taste bitter in my mouth.
I want to be more than friends with him. This thing between us doesn’t feel all that fake anymore. No one is with us every night when we talk to each other, no one is seeing our texts at all hours of the day. We’re doing whateverthisis because we want to, not for any other reason.
But I’m scared to tell Noah. I think if I keep repeating out loud that we’re just friends and this whole thing is fake, it’ll make the words settle easier in my chest. But it feels like a dagger every time.
“What day are you going back to school?” he asks, changing the subject expertly. We’re on the verge of crossing dangerous ground.
“I might go tomorrow. Let Isaac and Violet enjoy their weekend without me,” I reply, staring out the window at the crescent moon in the sky. I wonder if Noah is looking at it, too.
“I was thinking of going back tomorrow, too,” he says, and I hear the question he’s not asking. But I answer him anyway.
“We can see each other if you want.” I pause, choosing my next words carefully. “Most people won’t come back until Sunday.”
I hope he can hear my unsaid words, too. That I want us to keep doing things not just for show, but because I want to spend as much time with him as I can before this ends.
“I’d like that,” he says.
Without seeing him, I know he’s got that lovely smile on his face that always makes butterflies take flight in my stomach.
* * *
Isaac and Violetinsist on dropping me off at school the next day, even though I told them I could take the train. The whole reason I left early was so that they didn’t have to bother with me and could enjoy being engaged. I did manage to convince them to stay in the car instead of walking me to my door, though. My ankle has gotten slightly better over the break, and while I can put a little bit of weight on it now, it’s still easier to use crutches.
I wave them off as they drive away and start the walk back to my room. I only get halfway before my bag is lifted off my shoulder. I turn my head to the side, and Noah’s there.
“Hey, you,” he says.
I have to fight back the smile that wants to break out at seeing him.
I lift my arm from the crutches so he can take my bag, and he throws it over his shoulder. He cut his hair over the break. It’s shorter than I remember, but still long enough to run my fingers through it. I look away from him, heat rising in my cheeks, as I push that image out of my mind.
“You didn’t tell me you were back already,” I say as we continue walking toward my building.
“Got an earlier train. Thought I could get some work done before you got here.”
“And did you?”
“Not a single thing. I’ve been staring at the wall and contemplating my existence for the past two hours.”
I laugh and finally let myself look at him again. He’s smiling down at me, and I’ve missed seeing it. Missed the warmth in his eyes, and the way I feel like I’m being lit up from the inside out just by being next to him.
When we reach my building, he holds the door open for me, and I’ve missed this, too. All these small actions show he cares about me, even if it’s just as a friend.
We pass by a few people who have also come back early, but no one looks at us that much anymore. They’ve gotten used to seeing Noah walking with me, and I’ve even overheard a few comments from people saying how cute it is. He’s playing his role perfectly.
When we enter my room, we easily fall back into the routine we’ve set. Noah puts my bag on the floor and sits on the edge of my desk while I take the chair. I don’t have to ask him to stay—he does anyway.
“You can sit on the bed if you want. I know the desk isn’t all that comfortable,” I tell him.
It’s something that’s been playing on my mind all week for some reason. I should have offered this to him earlier.
“Are you sure?” he asks, looking back and forth from the bed to me. I swear I see a hint of pink on his cheeks.
“I don’t mind.”
He nods, biting his bottom lip once before he releases it and pushes off the desk. He perches on the edge of my bed awkwardly, and I can’t help but giggle at the sight of him.