Page 47 of Just My Type
I turn to him, bending one knee against the back of the seat so I can face him fully as we keep climbing, and he does the same. His eyes bore into mine, and the air around us feels electric. “Is that real you speaking, or role-playing you?”
The Ferris wheel stops to load more passengers, leaving us dangling right at the top. The lights of Plymouth, Massachusetts,stretch out before us, and the night air wraps us in its warmth, blanketing us in a sky full of stars. My question hangs in the silence between us, our gazes locked, bodies drawing closer without consciously moving.
Noah reaches out and splays his hand lightly over the side of my neck. “It’s always the real me.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, my question a whisper, like I want to know the answer and I’m afraid of it at the same time.
Noah’s thumb strokes my jaw. “It means I like you, Hannah. I’ve liked you for a long time. It means I’m not sorry we got accidentally married if I get to be here with you like this. I know we did everything backwards, but no matter what happens, I’m just glad to be here with you now.”
Noah’s honesty smashes through my carefully constructed filters, and uncharacteristically, I say exactly what’s on my mind. “I think the only time I can write is after I spend time with you,” I blurt out.
Noah says nothing, just watches and waits for me to continue. His expression is so open, so patient, that I can’t do anything but keep talking.
“Everything I’ve written worth keeping in the last month, I’ve written after being with you. It’s not a lot, but it’s more than I’ve been able to write in months. After we accidentally got married, I wrote an entire chapter, and I think it was good. Then we came home, and I ignored you for a week, and I haven’t been able to write much of anything at all.”
A grin splits Noah’s face, and he tangles his free hand with mine, his other hand still on my neck. The Ferris wheel starts its descent. “So, what you’re saying is I’m your muse?”
I roll my eyes, even as I smile. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Hannah, I am so flattered. I’ve never been a muse before. I think I like it.”
“I don’t know if I do. What does it mean that I can onlywrite when I hang out with you? It’s not like I can attach myself to you twenty-four hours a day.”
Noah chuckles and squeezes my hand. “I don’t know, I kind of like the thought of that, but point taken. I have an idea.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Another one?”
He lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles as the Ferris wheel rounds the bottom and we start to slowly rise again. “Humor me. Let’s stay married for a little while longer.”
“No,” I say immediately. It’s a knee jerk reaction, mostly because I feel like I can’t admit to him that I had the same thought during a low moment this week, staring at my blank screen and blinking cursor.
“Just a couple months. The summer maybe. An experiment of sorts. You said you wrote your best words in months in Vegas after we got married. I was already helping you get back into your writing groove. This is just, like, an amendment to our original deal.”
“An amendment that involves us being legally tied to each other?” My protest feels empty even to my own ears.
Noah shrugs. “I mean, we’re already legally tied together for the time being. We’re just deciding to stay that way for a little longer than expected.”
The Ferris wheel stops at the top again, and Noah cups my face in his hands. My breath stutters at the intensity in his eyes, the cool metal of his wedding band against my cheek a strange sort of comfort. “I want to help you, Han. I think you’re a brilliant writer, and if you need me to, I’ll tell you that every day. I’ll text it to you in the middle of the night. I’ll hire a plane to write the words in the sky. Also, like I said, I’m glad to be here with you. For any time we spend together. More time with you sounds exactly like how I want to spend all my free moments before I start my new job. Say yes, Gorgeous.”
Noah strokes my cheeks with both his thumbs. For a split second, his gaze falls to my lips. His eyes swirl with emotion and something else I can’t quite name, and suddenly I want himmore than breath. His words fill something deep inside me. A space left empty by years of tolerating less than I deserved, accepting less when I should have been demanding everything. And there’s only one answer. I take a deep breath and leap.
“Yes.”
I expect that wide grin to spread over his face. For him to say something funny or cheerful or charming. What I don’t expect is for his eyes to go stormy. For his gaze to sharpen with need. For him to slide even closer to me on the bench until my back is pressed against the side of the gondola and the heat of him crowds my front as we remain suspended high in the sky.
“We should probably talk about how this is going to work.” My voice is a whisper.
“We should.” His voice is a rasp.
“I don’t even know how long I’m staying in Boston.” My eyes rove his face.
“You’re here right now.” He slides even closer.
“I still don’t want to tell anyone.” My hand goes to his chest.
“You’re the boss.” One of his hands slides back to tangle in my hair.
“What is happening right now?” I ask the question, already knowing the answer.
