Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
I sit on the edge of the bed. “Really?”
He smirks at me. “I’m getting the sense you’re not all that close with a whole lot of people, either.”
“Not really.”
“I wish one of us approached the other back then.” He sighs as he gazes at me fondly. “I would’ve happily been your friend.”
I’m trying not to just stare back at him, objectifying him with my out-of-control eyes. I’m not the kind of person who objectifies. But Cole is in my bedroom. Looking the way he does. After having done the things he’s done to me. Going on with absolute sincerity about wishing he had been my friend back then.
What if I had a friend like him?
What if we had tons of sleepovers like we’re doing tonight?
What if my racing heart never stopped racing?
His smile broadens. “I’m happy we’re catching up on all of this lost time. I’m happy I’m here. I’m …” His voice soften as he gazes at me. “I’m happy you let me stay.”
I smile back. “Me, too.”
The more I look at Cole, with that disarming power behind his gaze and his smile, the more I find myself seeing the vulnerable human being underneath the beauty. His beautiful body falls away like it was a façade all along, like drapes falling from the window, and for a moment, all I see are his eyes. I see the guy at the photo shoot who wasn’t sure where to put his hands or how to position his arms. I see the uncertainty in his posture when he was on that walk with me yesterday, when he looked afraid of offending me or going too far, when he was stripped down to just his feelings.
I guess what I’m realizing is that Cole is a beautiful person.
Even without his beauty.
“Can I confess something?” he asks.
I look up. “Confess what?”
He drops his feet from the bed and sits next to me suddenly. “I know things are gonna be happening fast. Lots of stuff. Like you pointed out earlier. I know I’m gonna be in the middle of a bright-ass spotlight I never asked for. But …” He looks at me. “I need you to know that I don’t want anyone else. I’m not doing this pageant to find the perfect guy. He’s already sitting right next to me. The perfect guy is you, Noah.”
Chapter 13
Cole
I thought I might have gone too far.
Calling Noah the perfect guy. Declaring that I want no one else. Revealing my true feelings and assaulting him with as much affection and attention as any human being could hope to.
What was I thinking?
But after I said the words, Noah smiled his sweet smile, looked away, and sucked in his bottom lip. I was a second from asking if he was okay when suddenly he said, “You’d better get used to life in the spotlight quickly, because once the town gets a little taste of what an amazing person you are, they won’t ever let you go.”
Why’d he have to go and say something like that?
I couldn’t hold myself back as I grinned, tackled him to the bed, and then the pair of us made out for what felt like hours.
Noah’s poor couch, done up with a colorful blanket and soft, inviting pillow, saw no sign of anyone wishing to sleep on it. I was glued to Noah’s side, cuddling with him in his bed, as we drifted to sleep. We stayed up late into the night talking about this and that, no care in the world for what hour it was. It felt incredible to have him cuddled into me, spooning him in the semidarkness, just the soft sound of the air conditioner now and then kicking on when we drew quiet between our chatter.
And I learned so much more about him, too. I learned he loves sour candy, pickles, and orange-flavored anything. He learned I’m terribly uneducated about video games and fantasy novels, which he insisted was a grievous problem that absolutely had to be fixed. I suggested that this problem be meticulously rectified over the course of many more sleepovers, to which he paused, smiled, and replied, “I’d love that.”
I’m not even sure when we fell asleep. No goodnight was said. I just noticed Noah’s breathing changed, and I closed my eyes, and then I was dreaming about pinball machines and winged goats.
Honestly, I think I just had the best night of my life.
I hope Noah feels the same.
There’s no telling how much sleep either of us got, but when I wake up in the morning, I find myself alone in the bed.
I sit up slowly, wipe my eyes, squint at the entirely-too-bright window next to the bed showing the street out front, then glance around. I hear talking somewhere down the hall, perhaps from the kitchen. It sounds like his parents being chipper morning people—and with coffee and toast, from the smell of it. With a peek at the desk chair, I discover my clothes I arrived in neatly folded. After fishing my phone out of the pocket of my jeans, I check the time, wince at how late I slept in, then quickly start to change.