Page 28 of Begin Again
But I’m not in the mood to argue with Mitch. I’ll have to delete the texts later, but it’ll be worth it. To get a night of relief. I need to end it, but I don’t have the courage anymore. As I walk up the stairs to the third-floor apartment, the same one I lived in when I first moved to New York, I send a text to Mitch letting him know I won’t be coming home.
Me
Hanging out with my brother tonight, see you tomorrow.
He doesn’t know that Noah is out of town and he has no way to verify that what I’m saying is true. Mitch has never been to this apartment because he thinks the apartment building is too run down for him. When I told him I had lived in this building for years while going to culinary school, I’m pretty sure he about died. He’sestablished—his word, not mine—and told me that someday we could buy our own penthouse together, instead of the one I’ve been staying at.
His reply comes in seconds later.
Mitch
Working late anyway.
I sigh. If the roles were reversed, he’d be mad by that response, but I’m grateful. He’s distracted and that’s always a good thing. It’s one in the morning and I’m ready to sink into the comfortable leather sofa in front of the TV before I fall asleep.
I slip the key into the keyhole and turn the lock, blinking in surprise at all the lights that are on.
“Noah?” I call out as I set my stuff out on the counter. Maybe I will actually hang out with him so my lie to Mitch won’t be a lie. This makes me feel a little bit better.
I hear the shower running in the bathroom, so I make myself comfortable on the couch and pull out my phone. I let out a slow breath before going to my unread text from Sam.
Sam
Hi. Been thinking about you lately. That’s never a good thing, but I was and wanted to tell you.
I stare at the text for a beat. After so much silence between, I’m not sure what to even say back.
Me
It’s good to hear from you :) Sorry about the thinking thing though, that doesn’t sound fun.
There. I can be fun and we can have a conversation. Maybe I shouldn’t have sent the smiley face, but I can’t edit the text, because it shows that he’s read it.
Sam
What are you up to tonight?
I’m surprised that he replied so fast. I turn on a Gordon Ramsey cooking show before I reply.
Me
Currently sitting on your couch watching TV. Waiting for Noah to be done in the shower so we can hang out. You?
Just got up. Getting ready.
Where are you right now?
The bathroom door swings open, and I’m about to call out to Noah so I don’t freak him out when Sam appears in the hallway in nothing but a towel. I stare at him openly—I’m completely gawking, but I can’t seem to look away—blinking twice and opening my mouth to talk and then closing it again. He’s here?His hair is pulled up in a bun, but it’s still wet. His beard has water droplets on it. I lick my lips and look away, feeling guilty. I’ve got a boyfriend. I can’t feelanysort of attraction toward him. I swallow thickly.
“I’m here,” Sam says softly and my eyes snap to his. “Noah isn’t here. He’s in Colorado for the week.”
My eyes leave his—my first mistake—and I take in his chiseled chest. I wonder what it would feel like beneath my fingers. I close my eyes to shut out the image of his perfect body. “Can you put some clothes on, please?”
“You like what you see?” he asks in a teasing voice. Well, I think he’s teasing because of the lilt at the end, but it also sounds flirty. That can’t be right, not if it’s directed at me. He’s talked like that, low and husky, to other women. I’ve heard it on his channel. I heard it in this apartment when I was hiding away in my room. But never, never has he spoken to me like that.
“Just put some clothes on, Sam,” I yell, my eyes still closed.
I swear I can hear him smirk as he turns and a few seconds later the door to his bedroom clicks shut. I open my eyes and wipe my sweaty palms against my jeans. What exactly is he doing here? How come he didn’t tell me he was back? I glance at my phone, willing Mitch to text or call—to see through my lie—but my phone stays black.
