Page 48 of Speed

His face was so close, his expression a storm of emotions—anger, frustration, and something raw and vulnerable I wasn’t prepared for. His lips parted, his breath warm, and he kissed me.

Hard.

It wasn’t gentle, wasn’t sweet. It was furious, desperate, the kind of kiss that demanded everything and left me gasping for air. I scrambled to hold on, gripping his shirt as my knees threatened to buckle.

When he pulled back, his chest was heaving, his eyes dark and searching mine as if looking for answers I didn’t have. “I have the right to be angry,” he said, his voice low and rough, “when the man I’m falling for tells me something this big and doesn’t let me feel anything about it.”

I stared at him, my head spinning, my heart pounding. This wasn’t how I’d expected things to go. Not even close. I didn’t think he’d get angry. I didn’t think he’d care enough to get angry. And that realization knocked the breath out of me more than the kiss had.

Noah’s gaze softened, but the intensity was still there, simmering beneath the surface. “You think this is just about you?” he asked, quieter now but no less fierce. “It’s not. You don’t get to tell me how I should feel about this, Brody. You don’t get to decide what’s too much for me.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came out. Because he was right. And I hated it.

Noah’s expression shifted, the sharp edges of his anger morphing into something gentler. His shoulders relaxed, and before I could process it, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around me.

I froze at first, the tension in my body refusing to let go, but then, he pulled me in, his hand pressing the back of my neck, his other arm circling my waist. I let out a shaky breath, my chest tightening in a way I couldn’t control.

I buried my face in his hair, the scent of him grounding me. His curls were silky beneath my cheek, and I leaned in closer, my nose brushing his neck, desperate for the connection, the comfort. My arms came up to hold him, as if I might fall apart if I didn’t hold tight enough.

And then, somehow, there were tears. I didn’t even feel them coming, but they were there, hot and unchecked, soaking into his shirt as I clung to him. My breath hitched, my shoulders shook, and Noah didn’t say a word through it all.

He just held me.

He rubbed slow, soothing circles on my back, his chin resting on my shoulder. My fingers twisted in his shirt, and I pressed my face harder into his neck as if I could somehow disappear into him and leave everything else behind. The world outside didn’t matter.

I finally stepped back, swiping at my eyes with the heel of my hand. My chest still felt taut, but I managed to smile. Noah reached out and cradled my face, his palms warm against my cheeks, his thumbs brushing the dampness.

“I’m going to ask this once,” Noah said, his voice steady. “Are you feeling okay?”

I nodded, still catching my breath. “Yeah.”

His lips twitched into a smile, and he leaned in to kiss me—soft, lingering, and reassuring. “Okay then. Coffee?”

“Wait,” I said, my heart pounding harder now than it had while I was crying. “There’s something else.”

Noah tilted his head, confusion flickering in his eyes. I’d already told him about the aneurysm and promised him that was all I had to say. But it wasn’t true. Not entirely.

“I have seventeen million followers on my socials, a lot of them followed me when I was dating Jemima,” I blurted. “I want to come out that way—nothing formal—just post and then, shut my phone off after telling my brother. Will you help me?”

He blinked, processing my words, then nodded. I turned on my heel and hurried into the front room, gesturing for him to follow. Grabbing my phone from the coffee table, I snapped a quick selfie. Then, before I could second-guess myself, I grasped Noah by the arm and tugged him into the frame.

He didn’t resist as I pulled him close. His curls brushed my cheek as I adjusted the angle, capturing the two of us together—me grinning crookedly, my eyes not too red-rimmed, and him startled but… smiling.

“It’s your choice,” I said, turning the phone toward him so he could see the pictures. “Which photo do I share? If it’s the one of us, the media will be all over it immediately. If it’s just me, the media will still be all over it—but at least we could keep us quiet for a little while longer.”

Noah stared at the screen, then back at me. “Brody…”

I reached out, resting my hand over his heart. “I think I could fall in love with you, and I know that isn’t fair, and I know it hasn’t been long, and fuck, I didn’t even know you were a theater major, but… I needed you to know.”

His gaze softened, and his lips curved into the faintest smile. He took the phone from my hand, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he focused. He swiped through the pictures, his thumb hovering over the screen before finally looking back at me.

“I started to fall in love with you when you stalked me at the rink,” he said, his tone teasing, but his eyes warm.

“I wasn’t stalking,” I protested, though the heat creeping up my neck said otherwise.

“You were,” he countered, grinning.

“Okay, so maybe I was.” I couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out, but it was cut short as he leaned in and kissed me again.

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