Page 44 of The Photo
She swivels and strolls towards me. A sympathetic half smile straightens her bright pink lips. “That’s why you’re here now.” The delicate whiff of perfume clinging to her hair becomes stronger when arms envelope me in a tender hug. It’s one of those hugs a mother gives her son's new girlfriend—accepting but a tad cautious. “I popped in earlier to stock the fridge. There are numbers for restaurants on the counter.” The embrace weakens, and she points her finger to the kitchen.
“I feel weird staying here on my own.” Even though it’s his apartment, it’s lonely without him in it. This is the first time I’ve slept alone since the robbery. I have to see Noah again. I’ll suck it up and be brave, even if my nerves are on edge.
Alexa places a hand on my shoulder. “Trust me. He’ll be back before the meeting. You’re safe here. The building is secure.”
When she leaves, I tidy my luggage under the bedframe and walk around the quiet apartment barefoot. I change the tight-fitting sock that grips my ankle for support. After a long flight, a sweaty bandage is not appealing to anyone.
It worries me how I’m already unintentionally trying to impress him. Before I left home, I waxed the vital bits, used a tooth whitening paste to scrub my teeth, bought a new pair of seaside themed pajamas and most importantly, packed enough condoms for an army and their prisoners.
Those last items are precautionary. We might have break up sex. I’ve never been with a guy long enough to try it. Noah will be the proud owner of another new thing in the life of Rowan. Break up sex could be fun, or it could be devastating. I’m guessing it will be the latter.
I spend the afternoon catching up on reports and working on assignments. Thankfully, my portfolio was submitted a few months ago and saved in the college internet cloud, so I don’t have to retake the shots for the final assessment. In between essays, I wonder from room to room. My favorite spot is on the big bed, but I refuse to lie down. That would lead to sensory overload and intense memories. I should prepare myself instead and be strong.
Noah has the advantage in this situation. I’m a relatively new addition to his life, whereas he’s been in mine for a hell of a lot longer. I touch the freshly made bed, wondering if time truly determines how deep a person's feelings run.
Nineteen
When midnight rolls around, I concluded that his bed is too inviting not to sleep in, so I slip on a graphite baggy tee that calls to me from inside his chest of drawers. I’m tired, and it’s quicker than unpacking. Who am I to disagree with my logic? It doesn’t take long to drift off after one hell of a long ass day.
A handle rattles. A door slams. I spring off the bed, crumpling in a heap when a sharp pain splinters up my leg. I’m all bare legs, jitters and startled breathing.
I snatch the baseball bat I found in the wardrobe earlier, which I propped against the nightstand as a handy weapon. It’s like Deja vu or horrible back luck. Noah wouldn’t come back at this hour, it’s after 2 a.m. He’s more about sleep than late nights.
Metal jangles. A distant rumble grows louder. My spine straightens to the wall; I hold the wooden bat with both hands. I stoop forward, practicing a silent swing. Fear and excitement brace my muscles, so my movements are anything but smooth.
The lights are off. Darkness allows me to creep to the sitting room without being seen. I try to tiptoe, but my injury burns. When another noise fills the silence, I inch the bat higher.
My heart rate takes off when heavy footsteps tread the floor. A tall bulky silhouette slings a black jacket on the couch, swiping hands through messy hair. Moonlight streams across the room, illuminating the manly form as it moves. The smell of familiar cologne meshes with alcohol. I recognize this man, and he’s been drinking.
Noah hasn’t noticed me yet, or he’s too drunk to realize he has company. I don’t make a sound as I get closer. He unbuckles his belt. Both end flop open. A muted sigh finds the hush covering the room. I’d love to sneak a peek at him undress, only that would make me desperate or perverted. Wouldn’t it? As he untucks his shirt, I bite my lip, stopping next to the couch. I’m inexplicably drawn to him. Every move he makes fascinates me.
“Noah,” I say softly.
With a stagger, he rotates to face me. A big gulp of air expands my lungs when our eyes meet. His jaw slackens, like he’s seen a ghost. A quill of hair drapes across his forehead, teasing a raised brow, and those lips I crave remain tight.
His face is half shaded, both light and darkness depicting his current mood. My heart stills when a look of confusion flashes in his eyes.
“Rowan? Is that you?” He scrubs his face, not expecting to find me half dressed in his apartment. “How did you get in here?”
“Alexa.”
“Is she here too?”
“No, just me.”
“Oh.” Noah blinks once. “Are you going to use that?” He nods to the pillar of wood I’m threatening to clobber him with.
I shake my head. The bat lowers, and I stay still. Now that he’s here, all the emotions inside my chest tumble and trip over each other.
He’s perfection
He’s drunk.
He’s super sexy.
He’s not mine anymore.
I want him back.
