Page 72 of Crown of Thorns
Give him a gentle rock of my hips when he hums.
For now, I’m just here, next to him, and that’s enough to keep the chaos at bay.
20
NOAH
The sun’s barely up when I slip out from under the covers, leaving Louis tangled in my sheets and the smell of vanilla clinging to my skin. He murmurs something in his sleep, but doesn’t wake. I don’t want him to. Not yet.
I move quietly, slip on my boots, grab my jacket, and head out before the weight of morning catches up with me.
Myland.
I’ve been coming here more and more lately, alone, mostly. Just to breathe. Over the past weeks, it’s become a quiet habit. I used to walk this path with Granddad when I was a kid, his hand on my shoulder, teaching me the names of trees I can’t remember anymore. Back then, it felt lighter. Now it’s different. Lonelier. But also mine. It took me weeks to accept it, even longer to look at it as something I could touch something that was really mine.
I can’t recall the last thing that truly belonged to me. Maybe nothing ever did. Not the borrowed books I loved, not the front-row seat I once earned in class, both taken back without warning. They felt like mine. That was enough.
The morning air tastes sharp, wet with dew. This land is what’s left. Of Granddad. Ofthem. Mom and Dad. A life thatonce held me. I remember Mom pressing wildflowers into notebooks, Dad showing me how to whistle with an acorn cap right here. Their laughter used to live in this air. Maybe that’s why I keep coming back, because some part of them still does.I know this trail the way I know my own breath, each twist, each jagged stone memorized by muscle.
I don’t expect company, not this early, not after leaving Louis half-asleep in my bed. But somehow I know it’s him before I even turn. Something in the air shifts, in the footsteps, in the way the forest responds.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
My heart stumbles. A hush in my chest, sharp and warm.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
His voice is so familiar now. So goddamn intimate. Louis steps through the trees like a wolf, all fluid menace and elegance. His dark mane is untamed like the man himself, strands nearly brushing the collar of his coat.
“You’re stalking me again,” I say.
He bares his teeth in a smile. “You make it so easy.”
“You were still asleep,” I add, shaking my head. “You woke up fast.”
He shrugs, grinning wider. “You’re not that quiet, Professor.”
Something sparks in me. Not fear, something closer to the thrill of a dare. His grin dares me to act, to flee, to make this a game.
It feels reckless, ridiculous, but maybe that’s the point. To remind myself I’m alive. To let him chase me instead of all the shadows I carry.
I run.
I don’t know why. Instinct maybe. I just bolt, feet slamming the earth, heartbeat stuttering in my throat. Behind me, I hear him curse and chase.
“The fuck? Noah!”
Laughter bubbles in my throat. I dodge branches, leap over roots, legs stretching with each pounding stride. The feeling is exhilarating.
I want him to catch me. Want him to drag me down like we’re reenacting some myth, tangled in roots and hunger. Let him turn the forest floor into a dare I can't outrun, one that stirs something primal in me, equal parts fear and surrender, like I want to be caught just to know what he’ll do once I am.
I take a hard right. Then a left. Louis is fast, but I’m wiry and determined. I’m almost to the old well when he lunges and slams into me like a wave breaking against shore. We tumble, breathless, into the dirt, his weight pinning mine, laughter caught somewhere between a growl and a gasp. The ground is soft beneath us, the air full of crushed green and the wild scent of him.
“Got you.”
The forest whispers with morning birdsong and the soft sigh of leaves. Damp earth clings to my palms as we crash down, the sharp bite of thorns pressing near. The cool dirt feels rough beneath my back, twigs prickling my skin. The air smells of moss and pine, sharp and wild like the forest itself, untamed and whispering secrets.
He doesn’t pin me. Doesn’t hurt me. Just straddles my hips and leans over me with a crooked grin, hair falling forward like a dark curtain.
