Page 32 of Speed Crush

So, for a second, both of us forget how to breathe.

His hand is at my waist. His chest brushes mine. And that grip—it’s not just steadying. It’s claiming. It sends a bolt of awareness straight through me, sharp, hot, and dizzying.

Noah's gaze is so intense, so overwhelming, it feels like the whole world has gone quiet. Like time itself paused to let me notice everything about him—how ridiculously long his lashes are, how his mouth curves like it was made to be kissed.

My heart pounds. All I can do is stay there, caught under his stare, dazed by the sheer focus in it. Like I’m the only thing he sees. And somehow, that both thrills me and makes me want to run for cover.

What is this?

This moment—him catching me.

It’s cinematic. Sweeping. A little too romantic.

And still, something inside me lights up like a girl with her first crush on the boy who stepped between her and a storm.

It’s ridiculous how hard I want to lean into it.

And Noah just stands there while the rest of me reels.

Like my body registered the swoon before my brain had a chance to catch up.

The snow falls around us, thick and silent, blanketing the town in a hush that doesn’t match the storm churning inside me.

A distant car horn breaks the magical moment and we straighten up.

Still holding my hand, he leads us farther to the back of the firehouse, where the laughter and music inside are nothing but a low, faraway hum.

He gently pushes me back, and I feel the solid brick wall of the firehouse catch me. Then his arm lifts and plants firmly beside my head— Bold and a little possessive.

And I can't lie—it does something to me.

My breath catches somewhere between flustered and floating. My cheeks are suddenly warm, my heart skittering like I’m sixteen again and someone just slipped a note into my locker.

He’s towering, warm, too close—and yet… safe. His eyes lock on mine

And then I realize—he’s not just cornering me. He’s blocking the wind.

Protecting me like it’s instinct.

And just like that, I feel it: the part of me that still believes in knights. The tiny part I buried years ago. The one where knights stay with their fair ladies, happily ever after.

"Tell me right now, Songbird. Is that what you want? Him? Because if it is, I’ll walk away."

I blink.

“What?”

His eyes burn into me. “Scott. If it is, I’ll walk away. Just say it.”

He looks like he’s bracing for impact. Like he doesn’twantto walk away but will if I ask him to.

But that’s not what gets me.

It’s the quiet under his question. The truth tucked behind his pride.

He doesn’t want to be second choice.

That somehow,I’mthe one who could breakhim?

---