Page 75 of The Secret Of Us

I don’t let myself think too much about it before I place my hand on top of his. He instantly relaxes, his fist unfurling until his hand is flat against his thigh, and mine rests on top. He turns his hand over slowly, flipping it so that our palms connect, and then he links our fingers together, squeezing gently. I sneak a glance at his face, and his eyes are closed, long lashes fanning over the top of his cheeks, and his mouth pressed into a thin line. Noah lets out a heavy breath, his hand tightening around mine.

“I should go,” he whispers, but there’s no conviction in his voice.

I don’t say anything.

I should tell him I don’t want him to go, I want him to stay for as long as he can, because none of this feels fake anymore.

I should tell him that I like him.

But instead, I say nothing.

“I’m going to go now.” His voice is so quiet I can barely hear him.

He’s still holding my hand. His thumb traces my wrist, and I hope he can’t feel the way my pulse is beating hard.

“Can you tell me to go?” Noah asks, a gentle pleading in his voice, but I can’t. I could never ask that of him.

He lets out a shaky breath, his fingers running across my knuckles. He lifts our joined hands and kisses the back of mine before he finally lets go.

“Goodnight, Izzy.”

All I can do is watch as he stands and leaves my room. I throw my body back until it’s flat against the bed, bringing my hands up to my face to cover it.

I should have said something. It was the perfect moment to finally tell him, but I was too much of a coward.

He probably thinks I don’t like him. And that should be a good thing. He should be able to think this is fake for me, too. But I can’t keep trying to convince myself there’s nothing between us when it’s clear he wants this as much as I do. I just hope one of us is brave enough to admit it before it’s too late.

25

NOAH / IZZY

NOAH

I collapseon my bed as soon as I get to my room.

I can’t lie to myself anymore. I like Izzy—way more than I should. I could barely focus on what we were watching; all I could think about was where her body was pressed against mine.

I wondered what would happen if I tried to kiss her. I’ve taken liberties before, kissed her cheek and hands when I probably shouldn’t have. But what would she have done if I’d tried to kiss her for real? If I turned my head and dipped it low enough to meet hers? Closed the distance between us and showed her how I really feel about her?

I didn’t want to leave her. If she had told me to stay, I would have done it instantly. If I had, would I have kissed her? Would either of us have finally admitted that we have feelings for each other?

I’m falling for Izzy.

But I also know there’s no happy ending for us.

In a few months, we’ll leave this place and never see each other again. I want to enjoy the little time I have left with her. If the only way to do that is to hide my feelings and keep pretending this doesn’t mean anything to me, then I’ll do that. Izzy’s already going through enough, and I don’t want to do anything that will hurt her. Even if it means getting hurt myself in the process.

* * *

I expectedthings to be awkward between Izzy and me after what happened in her room a few days ago, but we’re both pretending it didn’t happen. We fall back into our routine easily, but I know she’s got other stuff going on, so when she’s not there at the start of practice, I don’t think too much of it.

I run around the field with Josh, both of us working together expertly to make sure our goal stays clear. We successfully get the ball away right as Mr. Reid blows the whistle to signal a five-minute break before we swap sides. Josh runs up to me, hooking an arm around my neck as he ruffles my hair. I playfully shove him away from me, and we make our way over to the edge of the field to get some water.

I look around for Izzy, getting a weird feeling in my chest when I realise she didn’t come down. It’s not that I expect her to, but I’ve gotten so used to her being on the sidelines while I play that it strikes me as odd that she isn’t.

I pick my phone up from the ground, checking for a text from her but there’s nothing. An uneasy feeling runs through me, but I try to ignore it. She never told me she would come every week, so it’s fine if she misses one.

I scroll through our text thread, trying to figure out whether I should message her. I don’t want to seem too clingy, but I’m also curious about what else she could be doing right now. Mr. Reid saves me from looking too attached by blowing the whistle again and telling us to get back on the field. I drop my phone and water bottle and do just that.

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