I nod. “Yes.” Then I admit something I’ve never admitted out loud. “He’s the first person I’ve really ever been attracted to at all.”
I stare at the chipped polish on Kat’s hands as she grips her glass, and add, “I went out with Rhiannon because Ithought I should, but I only ever liked her as a person. As a friend.”
Zennie pushes out a breath. “So Noah is your first… everything?”
My cheeks flame and in the privacy of my jeans, I clench. “Not everything. I mean, I slept with Rhiannon. I didn’t…” I glance between them, forcing myself to be an adult when all I want to do is write this part on a piece of paper and slide it to them facedown. “I didn’t finish when we slept together, but we did have intercourse.”
“Wow,” Kat snorts. “Intercourse. Tell me you didn’t feel the vibe without telling me.”
Zennie subtly elbows my sister, but I’m used to Kat being crass. I’ve come to appreciate it, because it often breaks down barriers better than anything else.
“That’s okay,” Zennie says gently, talking to me while smoothing hairs back behind Kat’s ear with a tenderness I can’t describe, but one that makes my chest tight. Noah invited me over. He knew I’d come. Whether it was ten at night or two in the morning, he knew I’d show up. And how did he know? Am I that obvious? I scratch the side of my jaw, disliking the stubble from the day, but getting goosebumps nonetheless. Stubble reminds me of Noah. Of that night. When he asked if he could change my world, because everything I’ve been telling him is that I did want my world to change. I want it to change to a place where he and I exist. And he knew it.
“It’s okay to not feel it with certain partners. Sex is intimate, Cade. And I know it’s weird to be talking to meabout this, I’m sure, but I’m willing to wade through weird as long as you know that it’s okay to not feel it with certain partners. True intimacy can only be explored and experienced with the right person.”
I look between them. Kat gives me a half smile, something between sad and hopeful, and it urges my next words out of me with ease.
“He knows me really well.” I clear my throat. “Noah. I mean, sometimes it feels like he knows me and what I need and want better than I do.”
A moment of silence fills the space between us, and Zennie pats my knee as she gets to her feet, chasing an egg timer and an oven. That leaves just me and Kat.
“You could definitely talk to Dad about this stuff.” She smiles. “Not that I don’t want to talk to you. I do. I always do. But according to Elle, this is his literal predicament as well. Being unable to take the steps unless it’s the right person.”
I nod, thinking about my dad and the news my sister has recently shared about his celibacy. “He’ll tell us that, right? When he’s ready?”
She winks at me. “You tell me.”
The back of my neck grows hot at her insinuation. “I don’t have any big thing to tell.”
Kat shakes her head. “I’m not talking about some coming out. I’m talking about simply saying, I like Noah. And saying that to him, in front of people, to people. Because I mean… it sounds like he feels the same way.”
Zennie shuffles around their place in the background,and at some point, her phone rings and she disappears into their office to talk to her parents. Kat finishes her drink but puts the bottle away, and I’m grateful for my sister knowing that drinking makes talking easier, but that getting drunk makes decision making much worse.
“What’s the biggest thing holding you back from embracing this new relationship with Noah?” my sister finally asks, sluicing through the silence wherein I was lost in my head, dreaming about his hand on my thigh, the rain shielding us from reality.
I let out a long sigh and tell her the truth. “Me.”
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
NOAH
I shiftin my seat for the millionth time. It’s got to be in the millions by now. These little metal chairs do nothing to ease the relentless pressure inside me.
At my lunch with Ethan, while pretending to listen to him, I devised a plan. The silent treatment worked in proving a point—I do most of the communication between us, and I’ve clearly done the most important communication so far, not to mention, made all the moves.
I need a little more from Cade, and today, he’s going to give it.
The faculty meeting is rounding the corner on one hour, and I’m beyond ready for it to end, while at the same time, desperate for it to continue. Because I haven’t even begun teasing him, despite the fact I’m relentlessly teasing myself.
The low drone of Dr. Pratt’s voice going over department updates and budget discussions fills the small meeting room. My skin is hot, too hot, with an angry flush crawling up my neck that I know must be visible under these aggressive, fluorescent tube lights. Next to me, Cade sits perfectly composed, his broad shoulders filling out his button down cardigan in a way no sweater has ever been worn, I swear. His knee brushes mine accidentally under the table, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from groaning.
Fuck. This was a mistake. A stupid, bold, desperate, horny mistake.
The prostate plug vibrates again—low, teasing, set to a random pattern I can’t predict. It’s nestled deep, pressing against the spot with every subtle shift of my hips. My cock is trapped against my sticky underwear, leaking steadily, and every pulse of the toy sends sparks up my spine. My toes curl repeatedly in my sneakers and I thank God that I chose dark wash jeans to wear today, and a shirt that falls past my waist.
I’m hard. Painfully hard. Leaking and messy and moments away from exploding type of hard. And I’m supposed to be paying attention to Dr. Pratt droning on about—what is it now? Symposium updates. This fucking symposium.
