Page 74 of Wanted You More

The hand under mine tenses. “Trust me, Austen. I know that.” His tone is raspy as he slowly works the zipper the rest of the way up to cover me.

I know it’s risky to inch closer, but I do it anyway. It’s always a cat-and-mouse game between us, and I think Noah is starting to like the chase.

My boots touch the tips of his shoes. Through my lashes, I look up at Noah, who’s still got his hands on the zipper of the borrowed jacket that goes beyond the length of my skirt. “You’re acting weird tonight. What gives?”

I see his Adam’s apple bobs. “Do you know why I didn’t come to your birthday?”

The question has me staring at him. I remember what Marybelle thought. “Marybelle said it was because there was one less barrier between us.”

She’s been asking for any developments on Noah and me since she’s been gone and always seems disappointed when I tell her there’s nothing to tell.

He evades my eyes. His voice barely a murmur when he says, “Maybe she’s smarter than I ever gave her credit for.”

I don’t think that was meant for me to hear, but I can’t ignore it. “What does that mean?”

It takes him a few long moments to figure out what to say before he finally drops his hand from the zipper. “It means that I shouldn’t be here, and I shouldn’t give a fuck about what you’re wearing.”

All I can do is absorb that for a few seconds, slowly nodding to make sense of it. “But youarehere.”

I go to step closer.

He steps back.

I’m always pulling.

He’s always pushing.

“Youarehere,” I reiterate, trying to get him to tell me what he’s thinking.

No.

What he’sfeeling.

“You’re not at your apartment,” I keep going, trying to get him to see my point. “You’re not with Bailey. Or your parents. I’m sure you have homework to do or tests to study for. I know you work all the time because you like taking shifts on holidays so your married coworkers with kids can spend time with their families. You did that last Halloween so Jeff could take his five-year-old trick or treating. You showed me the picture he sent of him and her in matching princess dresses.”

Gesturing around us, I make him see that we’re not at any of those places but feet from where I live now. “You’re here instead. With me. So, tell me. What does thatmean? What are you going todoabout it?”

His fingers thread through his hair as he starts pacing. “Christ, Austen.”

People walk by us in groups. Some of them are paying attention. Some of them couldn’t care less about whatever is distressing Noah.

“That’s all you’ve got?” I ask him in irritated disbelief. What will it take for him to admit this isn’t just me?

He doesn’t answer.

Popping my lips, I nod along to the silence that says so much.

How long am I going to chase after someone who will never allow himself to be with me? I don’t want to be that pathetic. I want to be eighteen. Young, stupid, and reckless.

At least I’ll live without regrets then.

“You know what’s sad?” I huff out a defeated laugh at how stupid this is going to sound to him. “I may only be eighteen, but I know what I want. You keep telling yourself about why you can’t be real with yourself, or with anyone else, while I’ll always be honest about what I feel because that’s who I am. Age doesn’t have anything to do with this. With us. You just use it as an excuse.”

When Noah grips the back of his neck, I know he’s smart enough not to deny it. “I don’t know what to tell you that would make this come out right. I’ve never been good at expressing how I’m feeling. Especially when I feel guilty about it.”

“What is there to feel guilty about? Start there.”

His hands move toward me, as if the answer is obvious. “Whatisn’tthere to feel guilty about? Austen, put yourself in my shoes and think about why anything between us would look bad. We’ve known each other for years and you’re in a vulnerable position. I’m older, it’d look like I’m taking advantage of you.”

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