Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
I press the button.
The flash—which I didn’t realize was on—goes off, shattering the moment with its intrusive light.
Cole looks up, surprised. “Noah?”
I lower my phone at once, ashamed. “S-Sorry.”
“Did you just take a picture of me?”
I stammer, unable to produce a response. Then I fight it back and ask the real question: “Are you okay?”
“Of course. Why do you ask? Oh.” He peers at his own phone, as if forgetting he’s holding it. “Right. The call. It … It was nothing. Just Nan asking me about, um …” He rubs his head, trying to come up with something. It’s obvious. “She wasn’t, uh, sure where I kept something. She’s doing some work in the garden.”
“In the dark?”
“She … likes working at night, I guess.”
“Why are you lying?”
Cole’s eyes snap to mine, appearing stunned. “What do you mean? I just … I …” Suddenly his expression softens. “I just noticed you’re not as shy in front of me as you are around others.”
I frown at him, thrown off by his gentle tone of voice. “Huh?”
“You speak your mind. Unafraid. And that must mean you feel more comfortable around me,” he concludes. “That is a fact which happened to escape my attention until just now.”
I can feel myself shrinking. My heart races indignantly. “I’m … I’m not more comfortable around you than other people.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’m actually totally uncomfortable around you.”
Cole appears to be amused by that. “Yet here you are, coming out of the restaurant to … snap a shot of me while checking on my nonexistent phone call …?”
My face reddens. This is going all wrong. Why does he look on the brink of laughing right now? “I—I came out here …” I start, choke on my words, then finish, “to check on you, because they all started talking about blood, and that’s obviously why you made up a fake phone call to get away.”
My words stun Cole.
Visibly.
Did he really think it wasn’t that obvious, the real reason he got up from the table and fled?
“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t pass out on the curb,” I explain. “It can be dangerous. There’s a probability you could have fallen and hit your head on something if left out here alone.”
He appears to be thinking it over. “I’m sorry for lying, Noah. I guess I … do tend to keep the truth close to my chest sometimes. I don’t like everyone to know the really personal stuff.” He gazes up at me. “But you’re not just anyone. Of course you noticed why I really left. I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re always so … observant.”
“Doesn’t take a detective,” I mumble.
His lips curl as he continues to stare at me. “So what you’re really trying to communicate to me, Noah … is that you care.”
I stare back. “What?”
“You came just to make sure I wasn’t lying out here like a log on the curb. You knew the real reason I excused myself. You cared enough to get up from the table, crawl out of that corner Nadine trapped you in, and check on me. You didn’t have to, but you did.” A smile finds his lips. “Honestly, I’m touched.”
I go quiet.
Cole always seems to know more than I realize.
He even noticed how I was confined to that corner spot.
“Not to mention the photo shoot earlier,” Cole continues. As he seems to think about it, he smiles even deeper. “Despite how bad Anthony got, you kept your cool and took the shots. You are such a focused and driven person, Noah. And you also think about others.” He meets my eyes again. “I like that about you.”
It’s amazing, what just a few words of praise can do. I find all of my anxieties obliterated. His kind words come like a gift to me, a gift of confidence and appreciation, a gift of acknowledgement.
I think I might be smiling.
A genuine, uninhibited smile.
The very next instant, I think about the kiss. Cole’s face upon mine. My body arrested with too many sensations to process. My bones locked in place. My nerves prickling with elation. My heart thumping unremittingly against my ribcage.
The touch of Cole’s supple lips on mine.
The instant conclusion I came to: that I would never feel this happy ever again.
How did a mere kiss do all of that to me?
How did one touch from Cole’s lips destroy my sense of self?
“Did I say something wrong?” asks Cole, lifting his eyebrows with concern. “Are you okay? Did you malfunction?”
I snap out of it. “Our dinners are getting cold. We …” Flashes of our kiss keep invading my thoughts, cutting my sentences into pieces, like a steak. “We should go back inside. They’re …” I wish he would kiss me again. I want it so badly, I can barely breathe. “They’re likely talking about something else by now, so I’m sure it’s safe for you to come back, too.” We’re alone. We’re out here and we’re alone. It would be so easy. The probability of anything being witnessed is nearly zero. “They have been changing topics roughly every three and a half minutes, which is a bit fast for my taste, but …” I suddenly realize I’m rambling in an effort to stop the constant onslaught of happy kissing visions in my mind. So I shut up, give up, and finally turn to head back inside.