Page 66 of When in Rome

Everything about this night is wonderful. It feels too good to play and sing just for the hell of it again. It makes my fingers itch to create something new. To wear my voice out and really push myself with new riffs and runs. I feel that light inside me that had begun to dim burn a little brighter. My mind races to my upcoming tour and butterflies swarm my stomach—feeling an eagerness to get back into music and performing.

But then I think of leaving all the people I’ve grown to love in this town, and my heart feels heavy again. I want to find a way to make it all work out—but I don’t know that there is a way. If I continue to visit—or let’s say for the sake of an argument that I move here permanently after the tour—eventually, word would get out, and it would take away the town’s privacy. Not only would paparazzi swarm here, but fans, too. This sweet quiet place could get turned upside down. I’m not sure I could do that to them.

Suddenly needing a break from the piano and attention of everyone in the room, I stand and start in the direction of the kitchen. Of course Noah does the same, and just like our episode at the front door earlier tonight, we pause facing each other.

“Sorry.” Even just that single word from his mouth makes me feel tingly.

“No, I’m sorry.” I stare in the general vicinity of his broad chest. “You go ahead.”

“No, you go first. I got in your way.”

We’re being so polite it’s ridiculous. If we can’t interact in this small way, how are we going to manage living under the same roof for another week? We’ll have to take shifts. A spreadsheet and a schedule will need to be made. I’ll use different colors of tape tomark lanes on the floor so we make sure to never accidentally fall in the other’s path again.

When I tell myself to stop being a coward, I look up. The heat in his eyes wraps around my heart and smothers it.He will have a Gregory Peck face,I think.He likes me, too.Those thick dark eyelashes will be cast down, hands in his pockets walking away, and I’m not sure I can takeit.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Madison rips our attention to her.

Noah and I both swivel our heads back to the group, chests still facing each other. Everyone is frowning and staring. Madison points in our direction, flicking her finger back and forth between us. “What’s going on here?”

“What do you mean?” I was going for nonchalant and normal. I think it sounded scripted.

The siblings and James exchange looks around the table and come to a unanimous, silent conclusion.

“You guys slept together, didn’t you?” Emily asks sharply.

Noah and I are immediately a clash of words.

“No!” I say, honestly, because we didn’t. Haven’t. Won’t!

“Absolutely not.” Noah has the audacity to sound commanding and not at all bumbling likeme.

“We wouldnever.” I give that last word a little too much force and Noah looks down at me with pinched brows. His eyes say,Never?

“What the hell, y’all?” says Madison, and then immediately turns toward Annie’s reprimanding expression. “This is not the time for your delicate sensibilities, Cherub Annie.”

James casually shakes his head while skewering Noah with a grin. “I knew it. It was only a matter of time.”

“Stop.” Noah is back to stern and grumpy. Just how I like him. “You know nothing. We have not slept together. Not that it’s any of y’all’s business.”

I’m trying not to combust in flames of embarrassment. And itdoesn’t help matters that Noah seems to somehow discern my discomfort and moves even closer to me. Like he’s going to use his body to shield me from their knowing eyes.

“Okay, that’s it. Sit down and explain, because we can all tell that something has happened.” Emily sounds frighteningly close to a mother right now. “You haven’t looked at each other all night, barely spoken, and now whatever that uncomfortable little encounter was is the icing on the cake. Y’all didsomething.”

“Fess up.” Madison crosses her arms, like a mob boss. She needs a leather jacket.

Annie is the only one who doesn’t look concerned.

Noah and I retake our seats, looking as guilty as kids with orange powder staining their fingers saying they never ate the Cheetos.

“We kissed,” he states plainly.

It’s a sea of pearly white molars as everyone’s mouth—including mine—hangs open. I thought he’d deny it. We’d go on happily as if nothing ever happened for the rest of the week and I’d implement our color-coded lanes and that would be that. But no. He just dropped a conversational grenade and stepped back to watch it explode.

“You kissed?” Emily does not look happy. “That’s worse!”

A line between Noah’s brows deepens. “How is that worse?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not better.”

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