Page 41 of The Stalker Snafu

His smile slowly faded, and my heartbeat thumped five times before he finally answered with a sigh. “I can’t keep you to myself forever. How does next week sound?”

“Perfect.” I grinned. But a rush of nerves hit my stomach at the same time the butterflies took flight. Insecurity reared its ugly head, and my grin dropped. “What if they don’t like me?”

I wanted his friends to like me. Needed them to. If they didn’t, would Noah decide I wasn’t worth it? It was obvious from the outside looking in that they were a tight-knit group. There might not be room for me.

A dry chuckle pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts. The gravity of Noah’s gaze made me pause, but the forced tilt to his lips felt like a punch to the gut.

“Trust me, they’ll love you.”

CHAPTER 14

Asthma

“Why is she headless?” Noah asked after we spent a good ten minutes canoodling on the quad. He’d quickly changed the subject after agreeing to introduce me to his friends, and I hesitated to ask why he still seemed so reluctant to. But it was progress.

Now, Noah inspected the poster board on my back while I dutifully faced the other way.

“Ran out of time,” I answered honestly.

He hummed, and his finger traced the drawing—dangerously close to my butt. “My hair doesn’t look like this.”

I stifled a chuckle at the slight offense in his tone, thinking back to the rushed stick figure I’d scribbled. The hair had turned out spikier than I’d planned. “It could, if you wanted it to.”

Instead of answering, Noah finished admiring my drawing and turned me back around to face him. He shook his head. “You know a simple explanation would’ve worked, right? Big gestures aren’t necessary.”

“You were ignoring my calls,” I reminded him. “And texts.”

Noah’s hands found my hips, drawing me closer. He leaned down until his nose brushed the side of mine, my breath hitching. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

I stopped breathing as his lips lingered over mine.

Was this how he wanted to make it up to me? I could get on board with that.

Noah tugged me even closer, his grip tightening on my hips. His mouth was so tantalizingly within reach that I couldn’t help but close the distance.

I pressed my lips against his, mimicking the way our noses brushed. Each brush of our lips drew me closer to him like a magnet, eating up what little distance was between us.

And then he kissed the stuffing out of me.

Molding his lips to mine, Noah pulled me flush against his front and startled the butterflies into flight. I wrapped my arms around his neck, crinkling the poster boards and trying to ignore the corners jutting into my arms. His mouth slanted against mine as he deepened the kiss and coaxed my tongue out to meet his, my heart at risk of beating out of my chest.

It felt like we were flying.

The kiss was quick and heated and surprisingly messy, and Noah’s arms anchored me to him like he’d never let go. I reveled in that feeling, soaking up the weightlessness it brought.

When the butterflies got too worked up, I eased back and wiped the back of my hand across my mouth while trying to hide a grin. The poster board wobbled against my front, and it took a second for my breathing to even out.

“I had other plans for earning your forgiveness, you know,” I whispered.

“Did you now?” Noah asked with interest, looking barely fazed by the kiss as his hands found their way back to my hips.

I nodded, fiddling with the lapel of his blazer and recalling Teresa’s suggestion. My cheeks warmed. “Yeah. I was going to seduce you and do lots of dirty things until you had no choice but to accept my apology.”

His eyes—more green than brown in the sunlight—shone with amusement. “That sounds like a foolproof plan.”

I let my arms flop to my sides. “Fortunately for my borderline asthma, it’s no longer necessary.”

“You don’t have asthma, Emma.”