Son of a monkey.He sure knew how to play the sympathy card.
“Well, since you had to go and make me feel all guilty and stuff, I guess you can live vicariously through the most traumatic memories of my existence,” I said lightly before holding out the binder in a peace offering.
Noah frowned and made no move to accept it. “You don’t have to share just because I said that.”
“I know. But go ahead, eat your heart out.”
He took it, and I moved to perch on the edge of my bed while taking a deep breath. I’d rather avoid seeing Noah’s face as he flipped through naked baby pictures, old recitals, and times so long ago my parents had actually smiled when they looked at me. It was just a reminder of what I could never have again.
Noah took it as an invitation, and he settled himself beside me on the bed while cracking the album open. Our clothes were still wet enough to leave marks on the comforter, but I didn’t care.
I couldn’t help myself, and I watched the hazel in his eyes grow greener as they flitted over the first page. I was mostly naked in the first few pages of photos, as I’d boycotted clothes until the tender age of three, and it didn’t escape my notice that Noah was seeing alotmore of me than he’d probably bargained for tonight. I, for one, hadn’t intended for him to see me naked… yet.
Rain pounded against the lone window between my bed and Teresa’s in steady streams, but I felt decidedly cozy sitting next to Noah in my small room.
“You were a mischievous child, I take it?” Noah asked, pointing to a picture of my guilty grin next to the finger-painting mural on our kitchen wall that I’d been so proud of.
My parents hadn’t been as thrilled about having a child’s interpretation of an elephant astronaut exploring the moon on their kitchen wall.
Scooting closer, I leaned over the page to see nearby evidence of my pudding-covered face and a particularly beautiful shot of me passed out facedown in the grass of our backyard. Buck naked.
“You could say that.” I glanced at Noah with a smile. His face was noticeably close to mine, and the butterflies in my stomach perked up. “When I wasn’t practicing the piano or sequestered in time-out, that is.”
I’d never been more aware of my pulse—of each individual heartbeat thrumming through my body—than I was at that moment. With Noah in my bedroom, gazing back at me with the backdrop of a storm crashing against the window behind him.
He broke my gaze and flipped to the next page. The beginning of my piano recitals. Floofy dresses, bows in my hair, and bangs the size of France—my mother had tried her hardest to turn me into her perfect little marionette.
She’d failed, but I had to give her credit for trying.
“Are those…?”
“Rhinestones on my dress?” I answered when Noah trailed off. “Yes, yes, they are. And yes, at least twelve bows are on that dress. It was my birthday present that year.”
My dress had engulfed the piano bench, making me look like a giant cupcake performing for the audience.
Noah snorted. He shifted next to me before pointing at the offending picture. “Oddly enough, I wasn’t referring to the rhinestones. I meant the flowers. Stargazer lilies?”
I swallowed and let my eyes linger on the flowers my parents gave me that day. “I told you they were my favorite.”
Despite not being decent human beings, my parents had always brought flowers to my recitals. Every single one, and Stargazer lilies were my favorite. Looking back, I knew they did it more for my image than for me, but I always loved seeing the lilies.
“So, this is little Emma Fox.” Noah’s eyes darted across the pages of my recitals before he flipped to the next page with much of the same. “The piano prodigy.”
Lightning flashed in the window behind him, and I admired the way it highlighted his dark hair. I snorted at his ridiculous notion. “Not even close. Though my parents wish—”
Thunder crashed around us, and I jumped like a spooked deer from my perch on the bed. My arms flailed, struggling for purchase as my butt crashed back against the bed—landing practically on top of Noah.
He sat still as a statue beside me, blinking in surprise.
“Sorry,” I stammered. The skin of my thigh rested snuggly against his pants. I cleared my throat and told myself to back off, but my legs refused to move. “I’m not a big fan of thunder.”
Noah rested a hand on my arm and sent a whole wave of chills through my body when his thumb stroked my skin. “It’s okay.”
I swallowed and turned away to distract myself with the next picture, but the photo album had fallen to the floor when I’d practically assaulted him in fear. Without the album, there wasn’t anything to look at, and my eyes pulled back to Noah’s like magnets.
We were close enough that I could see the small flecks of gold around his irises. It was intoxicating, the way his piercing gaze held mine with an intensity that had the butterflies doing somersaults in my stomach.
Noah leaned in, and my brain malfunctioned.
