Page 116 of Double Standards
He’s darker, sharper in a way that makes the air feel thinner. His eyes are obsidian-dark, so deep I could fall into them and not find the bottom. They flick over me with heat, but there’s something else there, too. Like he’s already trying to solve me before I’ve even spoken. His hair is black as ink, messy in a way that looks deliberate, and when he smiles… God. It’s not just a smile. It’s a slow unraveling. The kind that could make a girl forget her own name. The kind that doesn't just disarm—it seduces.
I swallow, too aware of the way my skin suddenly feels too tight over my bones. Still, I lift my chin, playing it cool, and offer a polite smile in return. Then I shift slightly, my knee brushing his, giving him room to sit.
He takes it, but he doesn’t close the space between us like Ithought he would. His cologne hits me next—dark spice, warm wood, and something smoky. Dangerous. Intoxicating. He leans in, his voice low and smooth, like it’s made for secrets in the dark.
“Noah,” he introduces, holding a hand out to mine. His voice is rough velvet. I take it briefly, cautiously. He’s handsome, but he’s not Axel. No one is.
My lips tilt in a half-smile as I take his hand. “Cassie,” I murmur.
He nods, slow and measured, his gaze unwavering.
We sit quietly at first, sipping our drinks while Jada flirts across the table. Noah leans in close. “Want to get another drink? Give them some space.”
“Sure,” I say, voice lighter than I feel. I slip out of the booth, following him back to the bar.
“What’s your poison?” he asks, his hand resting low on my back.
“Cosmo.”
That familiar sensation of eyes on me slithers up my spine. I glance past Noah’s shoulder and my stomach turns.
Cooper.
I haven’t seen him in over a month, but the bile rises instantly. I grit my teeth. Noah catches the change in me, his brows twitching.
Then Cooper’s voice cuts through the noise. “Cass?”
He claps a hand on Noah’s shoulder, grinning like we’re old friends. “Mind if we talk?”
Noah doesn’t even blink. “I do, actually.”
He shifts closer, protective. Usually, I’d tell someone like Noah to back off, but something calls to me. A familiarity? I don’t know what it is.
Cooper sneers but stumbles away, his drink sloshing in his glass.
I exhale. “Thanks,” I mutter.
“Ex?” Noah asks, handing me my drink.
“Yeah,” I say, the word bitter on my tongue.
It’s like Noah senses the lack of comfortability I now feel because he lets out a chuckle, as if he understands. He nods knowingly. “Recently?”
“Too recent.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I urge. “I moved one.” Bile threatens to rise up as soon as the words are out. They hold more meaning than I intended because sure, I’m over Cooper. I think I was a long time ago.
But that’s not the person my mind drifts to.
His smile dims with understanding.
Well,” I raise my glass to him, “to moving on.”
Our glasses clink, and we sip back the alcohol.
We fall into easy conversation after that. We talk. Really talk. About heartbreak and betrayal, and how sometimes love just isn’t enough. I share the bare minimum about Cooper. I keep Axel buried. Untouchable.
