Page 50 of Forever and Ever

The man who won’t give up. The man who makes me feel like the center of his universe. The man who wants me, whether he should or not.

“Funny.” I brush him off.

But he just smirks and leans back against the couch cushions, reading me like a book he’s looked over hundreds of times.

“You going to sing some of it for me?” His eyes drop to the notebook in my lap.

“Figured you didn’t want to hear it. You haven’t been back to the studio.”

I’m not sure if Noah’s been busy or avoiding it, but since he caught the tail end of my first recording session, he hasn’t been back. Not that I should be complaining. It’s easier to focus when I’m not staring him in the face. Something about him hearing my lyrics stirs feelings I’m not ready to put a name to.

“The timing hasn’t worked out,” Noah says, but his expression doesn’t sell what he’s saying. “Come on, let’s hear it.”

I nod and stand up, walking over to the couch he’s sitting on and dropping down onto the cushion near him. I lean against the arm and tuck my feet up to face him.

This man has the strangest effect on me, a draw that pulls me in. I could just as easily sing from across the room, but something about the distance feels even more exposed than if I can quietly mumble beside him.

“All right.” I flip through the pages, trying to decide what song has the least amount of exposure. Something about Noah being in the room makes all of them seem vulnerable, but I aim for one that feels safe.

Noah stretches an arm along the couch, and it puts his hand dangerously close to my knee as he flexes his elbow.

I take a deep breath, realizing Noah is hyper-focused on me. “Why are you staring?”

“Nervous?” Noah grins, knowing I’d never admit to something so revealing, which means he’s purposely challenging me.

“Never.” I swat him with my notebook. “Your stupid grin is just distracting.”

“I’m sure it is.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I let out an annoyed sigh.

“Just…” I stammer. “Don’t stare.”

“Fine.”

Noah throws his hands up, palms out, in defeat. He tips his head back against the couch and closes his eyes to listen.

It’s not that I have stage fright. But his eyes do something unfamiliar since I started staying in his house, and I’m not exploring that right now.

“This one is called Fairytale,” I say.

I set my notebook on top of my crossed legs and smooth my fingers over the pages, sitting up tall and taking a deep breath.

“Take it all

They said they’d take it all away

Breathe it out

Even if your life starts to fade

Swim away with you

I’d love to… swim away

But in the breath that fades

I empty you

you… empty me

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