Page 85 of Hidden Goal

“I’m sure. I really don’t think either of them will care. Leo might give me some shit, but in more of a taste-of-my-own-medicine kind of way.”

Noah’s hand splays across my back, a small laugh escaping him before he nips at his bottom lip.

“I think they’ll both just be happy that I’m happy,” I say, mostly to assure him.

“And you are, right?” His eyes search mine, more hopeful than I’ve ever seen them.

I hold his face between my hands and kiss him square on the lips. I feel his smile turn up against my mouth and relief washes over both of us. It took a lot for Noah to share his burdens with me, and if he needs me to remind him that I’m here and I’m with him, I’ll continue to do that for him. “Happy is too underwhelming of a word for how I feel.”

He kisses me again, and I don’t miss the weight of his body relaxing against me as he nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck. I turn my head, giving him better access. It’s onlynow that I notice a pink bag with a print of oranges sitting on the counter.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Open it.” He kisses my jaw once more before pulling back and nodding toward the gift. “I saw it and thought of you.”

I keep my eyes on him and hesitantly reach for it. It’s covered in tissue paper, so I gently squeeze the sides. Solid. Round. Familiar.

My chest tightens and I haven’t even pulled it out. Judging by the way he’s smiling, he knows I’ve figured it out.

“I know it can’t replace your old one…”

I rummage through the tissue paper, pull out the new water bottle, and run my thumb over the glittery number thirty-three sticker on it.

“But this ones got my number on it.”

It’s so simple and so ordinary, yet it means everything to me. At this point, I really shouldn’t be surprised. He continues to not only notice things about me, but he remembers them. He sees me in a way that I don’t think anyone else ever has. Whether it’s my own fault for not being willing to trust someone enough to let them see me, or simply because that’s who he is, I’m not sure. He sees through the sarcasm, the attitude, and the walls. He sees through everything.

I’ve fallen for the captain of the hockey team, and it’s not because of any sort of grand gesture, but because of the impossible way in which he sees me.

“It’s not the right color, but I thought for now it might?—”

“It’s perfect.” I cut him off. “It’s perfect.”

I cover his smile with a frantic kiss. His tongue parts my mouth, sending shivers down my spine, and I melt into him.

Walking out to Noah’s car, it’s habit now the way he holds out his keys for me.

My hold on my new water bottle tightens as I look down at the keys. I bite the corner of my lip, thinking of the way the engine hums beneath my hands every time I’m in charge of the steering wheel. Being in charge of the wheel has always been one small way I trick myself into believing I have control of my world.

The sunlight glints off his keys as he extends his hand closer to me. The hesitation that I’ve always felt has eased, and it’s been replaced by something I can only describe as trust. Trust for someone who has only ever been patient with me, understanding of me, and who trusts me enough to open up about his own struggles too.

I inhale deeply and look up into his comforting eyes.

“You can drive.”

If it weren't a completely overcast day, I would have thought the sun moved directly in front of him by the way his face lit up. There's a dramatic shift in him and I know that this means something to him the same way it does to me.

We don’t say anything on the short drive back to my apartment. I just sit in the feeling of trusting Noah. I sit with the growth I can physically feel in myself, being able to give my full trust over to someone, and more than anything, I acknowledge what it all means.

We pull up to my apartment and Noah puts the vehicle in park before leaning his elbow on the center console.

Part of me wants to stay right here with him, soaking up this feeling forever. Another part of me wants to run before all the feelings coursing through my veins threaten to come out of my mouth.

I choose to silence the words in my head by dropping a kiss to his waiting mouth, and I open my door.

“What, no ‘good luck’ for me?” he calls out.

My Vans hit the pavement and I turn to face him. “You don't need it.”

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