Page 57 of Wanted You More

“So you don’t think I’m reckless?”

His silence is deafening.

I press him with another question. “You don’t think I’m too risky to be around?”

Again, he gives me nothing.

I scoff, push off the counter, and search for the things I’d had with me in my car before he took me here. “Where are my bag and keys? I’m leaving.”

“Austen—”

“Your pancake is burning,” I throw at him, giving up on the search for my stuff and walking toward the door.

Suddenly, he’s there, stopping me from undoing the locks and storming out. “Quit jumping to conclusions. You always do this.”

I turn around and give him my deadliest scowl. “Then maybe you shouldtell me what you’re thinking. I’m not a fucking mind reader, Noah! What else am I supposed to assume when you don’t give me anything?”

He smashes his hand against the door before backing away from me, running his fingers through his hair. “You want the truth? I do consider you a risk. You’re messy, and reckless, and don’tthinkbefore you do something. You smoke too much, party too much, and God knows what the hell else. You get involved with all the wrong people and all for what? It drives me insane because you can do so much with your life, and you choose to make all the wrong choices.”

All I can do is gape at him because I wasn’t expecting the outburst.

He drops his hands to his sides and lets out a frustrated breath. “But despite all of that, there’s never been a time when I didn’t want you around. Because all your chaos is somehow…”

I swallow. “My chaos is what?”

“It’s addicting.”

Two words leave me utterly speechless.

Noah’s eyes evade mine. “And that’s why being around you is such a risk. Nothing about you should be addicting to me.”

I have no idea what to say to that. My heart reacts by racing rapidly, but my brain weighs with confusion until it physically hurts.

He drops his head back for a second before rolling his shoulders and collecting himself as if he didn’t just tell me that he likes the way I drive him insane. “Look, I don’t know what to do with any of this. All I can offer you is an apology. It’s never my intention to hurt your feelings or make you feel unwanted. I genuinely want what’s best for you. To see you happy, healthy, and striving. It damn near killed me when I found you in your car yesterday. All I wanted was to get you far away from the fireworks and keep you safe.”

Much to his girlfriend’s dismay.

“Do you think we can start over?” he asks, eyes moving to my bracelet again.

But I don’t understand what he wants. “I don’t know. Start over as what? You hate putting a label on us.”

His tongue drags over his bottom lip in contemplation, one of his hands moving to scratch the back of his neck. “You’re going to school soon where you’re going to discover a lot about yourself. Meet new people. Have new experiences. I want to be part of that—to watch you grow and succeed like I know you can.”

What is he saying?

Eventually, he looks at me. “Friends,” he says. One word. One syllable. Yet, it’s crushing all the same.

He wants to be friends.

Not knowing what else to say, I find myself nodding slowly. I guess having him in my life as a friend is better than not having him in it at all. Life without Noah is lonelier than I want to admit, especially now that Marybelle is gone.

So, I say, “Fine. Friends.”

But it’s not what I want, and it makes me wonder if it’s what he really wants or if he pretends he does.

I know of one person who will hate the new development between us because it means I’m here to stay.

Going in for a hug, I let my arms linger around him for a while before pulling away. My fingers stay on his waist as I look up at him, wondering if I should ask what Bailey would think.

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