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I dip my chin, pull in and release a deep breath, then look up. Something in Noah’s candid expression has me spilling all the things I’ve held onto for the last few months, things I didn’t want to tell Cameron because I didn’t want her to inadvertently take sides. It was hard enough for her to witness the change the summer had on me.
So when Noah asks me to start from the beginning, and I sense his sincere desire to understand, that’s exactly what I do.
I tell him about us as kids, and our interactions. I replay how, at my and Mason’s fifteenth birthday party, Chase beat up the guy who gave me my first kiss, saying he was an asshole who didn’t deserve it and then wouldn’t talk to me for two weeks. I share how on the night of our junior prom, Chase got drunk and pulled me into his arms on the dance floor, singing along to David Cook’s rendition of “Always Be My Baby” ...all to pass me off when Mason came back.
I tell him how over the years, my feelings grew stronger than I meant for them to, and I sat back like the naive girl I clearly was, waiting for Chase to realize while explaining Mason’s take on everything. I don’t leave out any details from our time at the beach house, apart from our sexual experience, not Mason’s reaction nor Chase’s response.
I lay it all out, and not once am I hit with a feeling of judgment or pity by the man in front of me. It’s a strange sense of comfort.
“I mean the night before was heavy, we were mentally messed-up and exhausted, so I guess I should have known better, but I wasn’t thinking about what would happen later. Even if I had, it wouldn’t have changed anything at that moment.” No way would I have backed out. Not with the way Chase looked at me that night; he actually saw me, and even though it didn’t last past that, I’ll always have that one desperate look from him, his visible need for me. I’ll never forget the desire in his eyes that night.
“Looking back, I didn’t really handle the situation well.” My nose scrunches in thought. “Or at all, really. I was unfair, I’ve been unfair. I just… left and now…” I blow out a heavy breath. “Now I guess you could say I hide.” I peek at Noah.
As my downcast eyes lock with his, his bounce along my face, concern pulling at his own as mine gloss over.
“I never thought getting something you always wanted could be more painful than wanting but never having it. There really is no in-between.”
I’m not sure if it’s in my expression or laced in my tone, but Noah detects my self-reproach, and refuses to allow it.
“Juliet…” He speaks with a tender firmness, waiting for me to look up once more, and when I do, a single word slips past his lips, his expression leaving no room for argument. “No.”
At his pained, sorrow-filled whisper, the dam breaks.
“Ugh.” I look up at the ceiling, willing the tears away.
Noah curses, shifting from his seat, but I only look to him when he takes my hand and pulls me to my feet, gently wiping tears from my cheeks with the pad of his thumb, and leads me toward the door.
My feet are a little unsteady from the alcohol, but Noah keeps me grounded with his body.
We walk back to campus in silence and despite my leaving the place in tears, there’s no awkwardness to speak of between us.
Twenty feet in front of the brownstone building my dorm room is located in, Noah reaches out to grab my hand, halting my footsteps, and when my eyes find his, he nods his head toward the fountain.
With a light laugh, I follow his lead, lowering onto the cement edge beside him.
He angles himself, so he’s facing me, and after a moment of holding my bloodshot eyes with his own, he nods. “You didn’t tell him, did you?” he speaks softly.
“Tell him what?”
“That it was your first time,” he guesses.
A sharp pain knocks against my ribs, my attention dropping to the ground beneath my feet.
I shake my head, somehow not at all surprised by his perceptiveness.
“Shit,” he mumbles, then shifts closer to me. He lifts my gaze to his, leaving his hand to rest on my cheek. His forehead is pinched, torn between a few emotions I can’t quite name.
“Was he gentle?” He works hard not to frown; I can see it in the strain between his brows.
“Noah—”
“Tell me,” he quietly cuts me off. “Tell me, Juliet.”
His voice’s barely above a whisper now, and something in my chest warms.
This man, who I’ve met a total of three times, feels like the furthest thing from a stranger.
