Page 23 of H E R

I haven’t seen either men in four days, and honestly, it feels amazing to not have those thoughts lingering over my head and suffocating the air out of my lungs. The guilt has surprisingly subsided, and I won’t question why or what the fuck is going on.

I haven’t slept, but at least neither Jule nor Jasmin are talking about my perfect boyfriend or the annoying detective. I’m staring at the ceiling right above my half-twin bed, where I taped a photograph of my parents from before we were born. The picture is of horrible quality, but it reminds me of them, nonetheless. Jule and I have my father’s milk chocolate brown eyes and my mother’s auburn waves. Jule looks so much like my mother, but in the best way. Not like slapping a wig on Jule would make him her twin or anything like that. I have my father’s big toothy smile, and the hole in my chest aches to see it in real life versus the picture. Jule smiles with his mouth closed, like my mom.

It’s almost ten in the morning, and the smell of coffee, eggs, and bacon fills the trailer. I only slept about six hours, but I’m too anxious to force it.

“I fixed you girls some breakfast, compliments of Noah.”

I frown.Noah. The thought of him materializes my guilt, and it sits on my stomach, its steel grip chokes me. “Where is he?”

Jule’s mouth is full of scrambled eggs and bacon. Oh, how I love bacon. “Said he would come around later before he went to work.” He hands me a foam plate full of eggs, bacon, a slice of toast, and my black coffee.

Jasmin kicks off her shoes and is stuffing her mouth greedily. Her feet look impeccable, although I know she’s been strutting her stuff all night in six-inch pumps.

“I’m starving,” she attempts to say, her mouth full.

“Noah dropped the meals off about an hour ago and said he would let you rest. I think it was wise of him. You look like hell, Nik.”

I roll my eyes and frown at the thought of Noah being incredibly sweet with someone who doesn’t deserve it. He knows me well, though, which is why he didn’t stick around. What can I say? I cherish my space. But right now, for some inexplicable reason, I want to see him. Maybe it’s the guilt. At times, he shares his earnings with us, and why shouldn’t he enjoy breakfast with his girlfriend?Because you’re a grouch and have repeatedly growled at him to not be around when you’re deprived of energy and food, and right now… you’re depleted.

My frown deepens at my subconscious, but she’s so right.

“Hey, where’re you going?” Jasmin’s got her face buried in her plate but manages to speak through the mouthful of food again.

I grimace while slipping into my Chucks. “I’m gonna go see Noah. You two eat up.” I go to my brother and kiss him gently on his forehead, which he wipes away instantly. “Safe trip to work, Jule. Chin up.”

With my plate in hand, I walk to Noah’s trailer. It takes me fifteen minutes, but once there, I nibble on some bacon while I knock on his door. His mom works the morning shift, so I freely stand before his door with my hair all puffed up, some of the shortest shorts I own, and a tank top. Fuck, I should’ve thrown something else on.

He opens the door, and his brows shoot up, his eyes sweep down and back up. I think I wear the same expression. He’s wearing his PJ bottoms, and they sit low at his hips. He’s shirtless and my mouth goes dry. He recovers quicker than me and smiles wide. I stay locked.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

I still can’t find my voice. I just stare at him with my plate in one hand and my coffee in the other.

“Want to come in?” He moves to the side and I squeeze in past him.

The need to reciprocate his desire for me washes over me like a cold shower.

He’s been gone for about a week, and I watch him as he fixes himself something. I’m not sure if it’s coffee, tea, or a glass of water. I’m distracted by my obsessive thoughts–why can’t I muster a fraction of the enthusiasm he exhibits for whatever it is we have between us?

Noah is attractive, tall enough that if he were to raise his hands, he wouldn’t be able to extend them in the trailer. His elbows would probably touch the low ceiling. His body, all V-shaped and toned, moves with grace about his kitchen. I can actually see the muscles of his back flex as he moves about. He turns, rock-hard and rippled abs a mere foot from my reach, and takes a seat in front of me.

Yes, he’s beautiful, but I don’t want him.Fuck.

I notice now that he’s fixed himself a plate and a cup of coffee. I take a sip from mine and smile. “Is everything alright?” he asks, eyes hooded, and I have to look away.

He’s damn sexy… so why can’t I reciprocate his feelings? I love him, that’s a fact, but just not in the same way he does me. I wish I could change that, perhaps, if I stop focusing on the guilt that consumes me, I’d be able to just hone in on all the good he does.

“I… just… I–” I sigh. Why am I stuttering?

His brows furrow. “What is it, Justice?”

“I wanted to say thank you—for breakfast.”

He looks relieved but also caught off guard. But he smiles wide, my favorite smile, and my chest tightens. Yes, perhaps my feelings for him can deepen. And suddenly, I relax, consoled by the idea that I won’t hurt him by not countering his feelings toward me.

“Would you like to stay? I was actually going to catch some Zs before work. You can… lay with me… if you’d like.” My cheeks burn. “To sleep, Justice. Not to have sex or anything.”

His reassurance makes me redden further. A pang of… what? Disappointment? I’m not sure what the hell I’m feeling. But he fills the silence with his worry. “Or you can just join me for breakfast. Whatever you want is fine with me.”

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