Page 47 of Intermission
“That’s the way it is.”
Noah covers my hands and curls his fingers around mine, pulling them down until my hands are wrapped within his, between us. “I know we’ve only known each other a couple of months, but I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. What’s going on between you and me is bigger than friendship. This sounds incredibly cheesy, and I don’t mean for it to be coming out that way, but... I think about you all the time. I really like you, Faith. I like you as... as more than a friend. I want us to be more than friends.”
My throat is tight. Pressure builds behind my eyes, causing them to burn and fill. A whisper is all I can manage. “Me, too.”
Noah lets go of my hands. His left hand rests at my waist. His right lifts, caresses the side of my face, and then trails softly to my chin. “Madeleine Faith Prescott,” he says, using his thumb and forefinger to tilt my face upward, “may I kiss you?”
My eyes are already closed when I take a tiny step forward. “Yes.”
Noah’s left hand moves from the side of my waist to the small of my back, soon joined by his right. My hands circle his lower back, and...
Our lips touch. Our only audience, the stars.
His nose nestles next to mine. My eyelashes touch his cheeks. Soft and undemanding, our first true kiss is sweet and full of promise. It’s romantic.Soromantic. Perfection.
Ever so gently, he pulls away.
Noah rests his forehead against mine. The fog of our breaths mingles. I tilt my face and meet his lips again.
He pulls me closer—this kiss surer, deeper, and no less perfect than our first.
We are starlight on snow. The reflection of something already beautiful—absorbed, reflected, and remade into something... more.
And this kiss . . .
This kiss is everything I’ve needed to say... and longed to hear.
My mouth recognizes his smile just before his lips move to my forehead, leaving a soft kiss there, as well.
“My Madeleine Faith,” he whispers. Touching my lips with his once more, he lifts his head and pulls me close until my head rests at the hollow of his shoulder, tucked in as if it was specifically engineered to fill that space.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” he whispers. “I feel like I could stand here and kiss you for hours, but I don’t want us to become one of those couples whose relationship turns into a series of make-out sessions. This thing, this connection between us... the friendship aspect of our relationship alone is too valuable to let anything ruin it.”
“I know.” Comfort melts through my veins. A peaceful sweetness fills me with a sense of being desired... but also, strangely,protectedfrom desire.
“The community theatre performance is less than a month away. Before you know it, we’ll be all done with Rolf and Liesl and back to being Noah and Faith full time. We’ll have time to go out on arealdate. I’ll come to your house, pick you up, take you out to dinner, a movie, maybe—”
“And you’ll have to meet my parents.”
“Of course.”
“And suffer through them giving you the third degree.”
“As they should.”
“Oh, sure. You say thatnow. But that’s only because you haven’t met them yet.”
Noah is a great, moral, upstanding sort of guy. But my parents are snobs. Do they even have the ability to see beyond their prejudice toward “artsy” people, to see that Noah is a good, solid guy? That his determination to follow his theatre dreams is admirable?
And there’s his age to consider, of course...
“It’ll be fine.” Noah presses a kiss to my hair. “You’ll see.”
I hope he’s right. Maybe he is. After all, he’s a smart, talented, determined, and kind person. How could theynotlike him?
I swallow around a bitter thought that leaves the taste of premonition behind.Because they are who they are, and I am who I am.That reason alone is enough for them to justify disliking Noah Spencer.
A shiver runs across my shoulders.
