Page 10 of They Are Mine

He steps off stage, puts his guitar away, and for a second, I wonder if I should go to him, but then, he comes to me.

Noah Carter comes to me.

“Juliet,” he says, smiling as he slides into the seat across from me. He remembers.

He remembers my name.

I feel it everywhere. A thrill curling in my stomach, warmth spreading up my spine. My fingers flex against my lap. This is happening.

“I didn’t know you came here,” he says, still smiling, still looking at me like I’m someone.

Because I am.

I tilt my head, tucking a blonde curl behind my ear. “I love live music,” I say, voice soft, effortless. “And I didn’t know you played.”

He huffs a laugh, ducking his head, cheeks going pink. “I mean… I’m not great or anything.”

“You are,” I say, leaning in, just enough that he’ll catch the faint scent of my perfume. “You were amazing.”

His blush deepens.

I love making him blush.

For a second, he looks unsure. Then he shifts forward. “I was about to take off,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “But… would you wanna go for a walk? Maybe to…”

The world tilts.

I feel weightless.

“Yes,” I say, before he even finishes the question.

We walk out together. The night air is cool, but I’m warm all over.

Noah is beside me. Close. Walking with me. Because he asked me to.

I glance down at his hands, big, calloused, beautiful. Fingers that play music, fingers that could do other things.

I imagine them sliding through my hair. Brushing against my lips. Around my throat.

I squeeze my thighs together.

And then, Noah reaches for me.

Casual, natural, like he didn’t even think about it.

Our fingers brush once, then again, and then, he just takes my hand.

Takes it.

And holds it.

I ache.

I squeeze his fingers, just to see if he’ll squeeze back.

He does.

I’m going to ruin him.

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