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“Yeah, Mik?” His eyes are glassy, he’s high now, floating into a happier headspace. I like talking to people like this, I like being like this. I’m lighter, my mind is clearer, the constant stream of noise and thoughts in my head is gone. All I hear are the crickets singing from the grass and the ringing of wind chimes in the distance. It’s peaceful, for once.
“Do you think Noah did it?” I ask, my voice wavering.
“Nah,” he says, eyes locked with mine, watching me. “Noah would never hurt you like that. It was just…” He trails off, looking for the right words. “An unfortunate accident.”
NOAH HASN’T MOVED AN INCH since I went outside. He’s leaning back on the loveseat, one arm slung over the cushions and one ankle crossed over his knee. His dark eyes flicker up when I return, they travel over my frame first, inspecting me.
Sometimes I feel like he’s looking for my broken pieces, making sure they’re not showing. That the façade is completely intact. I wonder what he thinks when he looks at me like that, is he tallying up the flaws? Or does he see past my outward appearance, instead gravitating toward my broken soul, wondering how he’ll fix what he shattered.
“Feel better?” he asks, the corner of his lip turning up into a smirk.
He’s an asshole, sarcastic, villainous.
But looking at him now, I’m reminded of all the reasons I fell in love with him. I can see him clearly, that first day he approached me, tearing my phone from my fingertips and barging into my life.
I wanted to slap him, tell him that not every girl falls to her knees for the cruel prince. But I also wanted to follow him, see where he’d take me.
“Much,” I smile, feeling the nerves in my face light up as I do.
He grins back in response, “Come here, baby girl.” This time I do as he asks and head over to him, sinking into the loveseat next to him and tucking my head into his neck.
He flinches first, surprised by my sudden obedience and affection. Then, he softens, letting my body sink into his, melding us as one.
“You feeling okay?” he asks, a near whisper directly into my ear.
I feel lighter, even though my conversation with Beckett felt dark. Between the weed and Beckett’s advice, I felt more content than I had been. Gone are my worries of choosing. Choosing a side, my family or Noah. Beckett didn’t think Noah did it, and I trusted Beckett.
At the end of the day I knew that if he was forced to choose between me or Noah, he would always be loyal to Noah first. But outside, when it was just us with our minds quieter, I felt his sorrow, his compassion. I trust him.
And deep down, I’ve always trusted Noah.
So I raise my head to meet his gaze, “Yeah,” I whisper. “I feel much better.”
Soft lips meet the crown of my head leaving a gentle kiss.
Beckett stumbles in behind me, plopping down on the couch and stretching out his legs. “So, are we all a happy family again?” he laughs.
Noah nudges me, “What do you think, Mik? We good?”
The question is heavy, but it bounces off of me with no hesitation. “Yeah,” I answer. “I trust you.”
My answer brings a wide grin to Noah’s face. He’s more than happy with me, he looks nearly euphoric at my words, like no other sentence could have made him this happy. He leans in, placing a hard kiss on my lips, dragging my bottom lip in between his teeth and biting gently. “Fuck, baby.” He moans into my mouth.
He presses his hard body against me, backing me into the couch cushion. Slowly he drags a hand up the side of my body, trailing his fingertips up my thigh over the curve of my waist. He traces over my abdomen and around my breast, drawing his fingers ever so slowly up to my collarbone, letting them rest there for a moment.
My skin is on fire from his touch, every nerve ending is alive sending electricity through my entire body. Suddenly I want his touch everywhere, warmth pools in my lower belly, the need growing stronger. I arch my back, pushing against him and trying to find friction wherever I can get it.
“Do you need something, baby?” he whispers mockingly, one eyebrow pinched up in question.
“Yes,” I breathe, the word is so quiet I’m not sure if he even hears me.
“Tell me,” he demands, always wanting to hear me say it.
“You,” I tell him. I can barely get a full sentence out between the fire rising inside my body and the fog that clouds my brain.
“We have guests, baby girl. Are you gonna let them join?”
I suddenly become aware that the boys are here, I almost forgot about them in my hazy bubble surrounding Noah and I. I looked over to them, three sets of eyes looking at me expectantly. How long had they been listening?
