Page 41 of Before We Break

I scoff, pulling my hand away. “Sure. Because I want the entire town to see just how much my so-called fiancé enjoys my company.” I turn my back on him, pacing back and forth a few steps in each direction. “God, I can’t even make it through one fake date. How the hell am I going to handle a real one?”

His strong arms wrap around my shoulders from behind, halting my movements. Warmth spreads all the way from my toes to my cheeks, which are probably a ridiculous shade of red. Against every one of my finely tuned instincts, I rest my hands on his forearms and melt into him.

His warm breath ruffles my hair when he exhales. “Are we good?”

I sigh, releasing the residual tension. “Yeah.”

A comfortable silence descends, neither of us pulling away or daring to say anything else. Naturally, my mind starts spiraling, and I’m overwhelmed by the need to fill the space. “Are you canoodling, Noah Weston?”

“Don’t get used to it, princess.”

That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.

NOAH

I’m so fucked.

The second she stepped out of that apartment in her painted-on jeans, I knew it. How the hell am I supposed to keep my hands off her when she looks like that? With the no sex clause in place, it’s just my hand and me for the next three months, and I’m already on edge.

I took my frustrations out on her over some stupid fucking joke, and I hurt her feelings. I’m supposed to be teaching her how to date, but all I’m doing is throwing up red flags.

We could’ve easily walked from the apartment and saved ourselves the argument, but a dark part of me wanted to know what it would be like to have her on my bike. I refuse to acknowledge why that is. This is temporary. Once the three months are up, she’ll go back to her sunshiny existence, and all will be well.

Hand in hand, we walk into the meeting room where the usual crowd has already gathered. Chatter dies down and heads swivel in our direction as we take the two empty seats beside Ben and Quinn.

Quinn’s eyes widen, and she lets out a high-pitched squeal. “Oh my god, it’s true?”

Clio scrunches her nose, nodding as she nibbles on her bottom lip.

“I fucking love this for you. Get it, girl.”

“Quinn!”

“What? One of us should.”

Ben recoils. “Can you not? I’m right here.”

“Oh, shut up, Benjamin. You’re not exactly a virgin.”

“I don’t need to hear about my sister’s sex life.”

She crosses her arms and shrinks in her seat. “Well, lucky for you, I don’t have one.”

Milton bangs the gavel, putting an end to the awkward back and forth happening in the back row. “Welcome to the Willow Valley town meeting. We have a lot to go over today, so I will cut to the chase. The Willow Tree Festival kicks off this weekend, a tradition that is deeply rooted in this town’s history. Nearly a hundred years ago, John Sinclair and Annie Belmont met at a small summer camp nearby. As their teenage whirlwind romance was coming to an end, they agreed to meet here on the cliffside at the old weeping willow tree on the same day every year until they could finally be together. Some years later, after the summer camp disbanded, John proposed in that very same spot, and they settled on this land, founding the town of Willow Valley. They met beneath that tree every year until she passed away. John still visited with a bouquet of flowers every year until the day he died.”

“Hogwash,” Janet says. “That’s just some old tale the Sinclairs made up to make this town seem more interesting. There’s a stack of old records in the library to prove it.”

“They do this every year,” Quinn whispers. “In four seconds, Teddy’s going to lose his shit. Three… two…”

Teddy stands, his chair legs scraping against the floor. “On behalf of my family, I’m offended that you would even suggest such a thing. My grandfather has a pile of love letters and the engagement ring to prove it!”

“Booo. Sit down, Teddy,” shouts a heckler in the front row.

Quinn snorts, and Clio offers her a discreet high five.

“It is a matter of some debate,” Milton adds. “Truth or not, we still celebrate. The town square will be blocked off for the event, and parking is limited. We ask those who live within walking distance to leave their vehicles at home.”

He takes a sip from a glass of water and flips through a messy stack of papers. “Now, where was I?”