Page 42 of Because of Me

“Cupcake?” I didn’t mean for my voice to come out so … breathless. But I’m glad it did when I see the way Amira relaxes into the sound.

“I’m scared,” she admits.

“Because it’s new?”

“Because it’s so much. And I feel like I can’t get away.” She turns her body to face me, wrapping her arms across her chest. Eyes down, she shakes her head. “When this was all a lie for the sake of my parents, it was easy. When it was a lie with benefits, it was fun. But the less it feels like a lie, the more worried I am. What’s going to happen when my father is finally off my case? Where do we go from here?”

“Do you think he will ever be off your case?”

She closes her eyes, and I watch her chest rise and fall as she tries to centre herself. A strand of hair falls across her face and she blows it away with a puff. “No,” she finally admits. “But what does that mean? How far can this go? Give it a few more months and he’ll start asking when we are going to get married.”

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.” Reaching forward, I tuck the strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers linger on her cheek, and I trail them under her chin to tilt her head up. Her gaze meets mine and I can’t help but feel lost in the deep chocolate of her eyes. They glisten with fear and I’d do anything to steal it away. “First, I’m here as long as you need, and I’ll be here long after that.”

“But—” she tries to protest, but I silence her with a finger over her lips and a firm kiss on her forehead.

“Do you remember when I first agreed to go to the wedding with you, what you said?”

Her nose scrunches up. “I’d had a lot of tequila.”

“You said if your life were a romance novel some guy would come in and pretend to date you and maybe you’d fall in love.”

She nods as though the memory is reforming through her tequila haze. “And you said you couldn’t promise the falling in love part.”

I step forward closing what was left of the gap between us so our chests touch. Dropping my head to rest my cheek against hers, I whisper in her ear. “I was wrong. I’ve been in love with you all along.”

She gasps, and I seal the sound in with my thumb on her lower lip.

“And I saw the polaroid on your mirror, Cupcake,” I add in between kisses down her cheek. “I think you were hoping for this, too.”

AMIRA

Noah’s lips leave wet kisses along my cheek, and each press of his lips against my skin warms me from the inside out. My brain swims in a storm and I don’t know what to say or do or how I’m supposed to act. He’s … in love with me?

I knew he liked me; he’d even told me there was more to his agreement than just wanting to help a friend. But this is miles above what I’d thought. And the photo.God, I can feel the heat spreading through my cheeks as I think of the candid snap.

When he came that day to help Cassidy move in, I was intrigued and a little infatuated by him. But he was her cousin. And he lived in Sydney. He was nothing but a pipe dream I knew would never eventuate, and by the time he returned to Melbourne, I was so set against a relationship that I barely thought twice. But even so, every time I cleared out my polaroids to make room for new memories, I couldn’t bring myself to take that one down.

“Noah I can explain,” I start, but he shakes his head against mine and nuzzles against my neck.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Just feel. Love is scary, it’s always going to be, but you have to trust yourself as much as you trust me.”

“I don’t know how.”

“I have an idea.”

He steps back, and the rush of cold air that hits my skin makes me shiver. Goosebumps erupt over my skin, spreading from where he kissed my neck.

Noah unbuttons the cuffs of his black work shirt and pulls off his tie. He looks around the room, pulling the silky ribbon through his fingers. “Do you know when Ella will be back?”

“Tomorrow.” She’s staying with a friend, apparently, but I have a feeling she saw the hours I was spending in the kitchen and knew she needed to be out of the apartment when Noah got back from work.

With a nod, Noah grabs my hand and drags me to the table. “Which chair?”

I look between him and our assortment of chairs, pressing my lips into a thin line. “What—”

“Don’t question it. Just tell me which chair.”

“The red one.” My pulse quickens, unsure what he is getting at but thrilled at the idea all the same.

---