Page 7

Chapter 7

Wanting More Than A Maybe

June

N oah doesn’t say a word as he grabs my hand and pulls me behind the firehouse. I hear the muffled sounds of the fundraiser continue—familiar laughter, the clink of community-donated coffee mugs, the kind of comfortable chaos that only happens when everyone knows everyone.

Out here though, it's just us and the snow—each flake catching in the light from the firehouse windows, creating a private world neither of us planned for.

I try to pry my hand out of his firm grip. But my boots slip on a patch of ice, and I stagger backward—arms flailing like I’m about to crack my skull and bleed to death in front of Noah Verelli.

Thankfully, before gravity can finish the job, his arm sweeps around me, pulling me tight against him. The motion is swift and protective.

And very, very impressive.

So, for a second, both of us forget how to breathe.

His hand is at my waist. His chest brushes mine. And that grip—it’s not just steadying. It’s claiming. It sends a bolt of awareness straight through me, sharp, hot, and dizzying.

Noah's gaze is so intense, so overwhelming, it feels like the whole world has gone quiet. Like time itself paused to let me notice everything about him—how ridiculously long his lashes are, how his mouth curves like it was made to be kissed.

My heart pounds. All I can do is stay there, caught under his stare, dazed by the sheer focus in it. Like I’m the only thing he sees. And somehow, that both thrills me and makes me want to run for cover.

What is this?

This moment—him catching me.

It’s cinematic. Sweeping. A little too romantic.

And still, something inside me lights up like a girl with her first crush on the boy who stepped between her and a storm.

It’s ridiculous how hard I want to lean into it.

And Noah just stands there while the rest of me reels.

Like my body registered the swoon before my brain had a chance to catch up.

The snow falls around us, thick and silent, blanketing the town in a hush that doesn’t match the storm churning inside me.

A distant car horn breaks the magical moment and we straighten up.

Still holding my hand, he leads us farther to the back of the firehouse, where the laughter and music inside are nothing but a low, faraway hum.

He gently pushes me back, and I feel the solid brick wall of the firehouse catch me. Then his arm lifts and plants firmly beside my head— Bold and a little possessive.

And I can't lie—it does something to me.

My breath catches somewhere between flustered and floating. My cheeks are suddenly warm, my heart skittering like I’m sixteen again and someone just slipped a note into my locker.

He’s towering, warm, too close—and yet… safe. His eyes lock on mine

And then I realize—he’s not just cornering me. He’s blocking the wind.

Protecting me like it’s instinct.

And just like that, I feel it: the part of me that still believes in knights. The tiny part I buried years ago. The one where knights stay with their fair ladies, happily ever after.

"Tell me right now, Songbird. Is that what you want? Him? Because if it is, I’ll walk away."

I blink.

“What?”

His eyes burn into me. “Scott. If it is, I’ll walk away. Just say it.”

He looks like he’s bracing for impact. Like he doesn’t want to walk away but will if I ask him to.

But that’s not what gets me.

It’s the quiet under his question. The truth tucked behind his pride.

He doesn’t want to be second choice.

That somehow, I’m the one who could break him ?

I swallow. “You dragged me out here to ask if I want my best friend?”

He shrugs once, eyes never leaving mine. “You looked comfortable.”

“I was avoiding you.”

His jaw clenches. “Why?”

“Because you confuse me.”

He steps closer. I don’t move.

“What do you want from me, Noah?” I whisper.

The silence stretches.

“I don’t know,” he finally says, voice quieter now. “I just know I can’t stop wanting it.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I want to.”

His words hit something tender inside me.

I shake my head. “Look, Noah, you’re here to burn off steam before the next F1 season starts, so please don’t pick me. I’m not built for temporary.”

He stares at me, breathing hard, like he’s trying to hold back everything he wants to say.

“This isn’t about being careful or conservative,” I continue. “It’s not that I don’t want this.”

He watches me like I’m a fuse waiting to blow.

“But more than anything, Noah, I want someone who shows up. Really be there with me. Someone who doesn’t leave when things get complicated, inconvenient—like a fairytale that breaks, and the magic ponies and knights never appear. I don’t need someone who shows up when it’s easy and breezy. I want someone who stays. When it’s hard. When it’s messy. When it matters.”

I pause, heart hammering in my chest. My eyes search his face, and I don’t look away.

“And yeah, I know relationships don’t come with guarantees. I’m not na?ve about that. People change. Life gets in the way. Loving someone doesn’t mean they’ll love you the same way forever.”

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “But if I don’t say what I want out loud—if I don’t admit it, even just to myself—I’ll never have a chance in hell of actually getting the kind of love I need. The kind that doesn’t flinch when things get hard. The kind that chooses you, again and again.”

His chest rises, slow and full. “So, it’s all in or nothing?”

“Yeah.” I force out a breath. “That’s what it has to be for me.”

He’s quiet.

Then he blurts out, “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Want something that badly. Say it out loud without knowing if the other person can give it to you.”

I blink again.

The fantasy didn’t hold.The little ponies lost their sparkle.The knights never came.So I built my own armor.

My voice is small. “I’ve had to learn.”

He looks at me like he’s seeing something he didn’t know he was missing.

Like I’m speaking a language he doesn’t know but desperately wants to understand.

He steps closer, slowly, like he’s afraid I’ll run again.

His hand lifts—not to grab me, just to touch , fingertips brushing my wrist, a silent ask.

“I came here to get my head on straight,” he says. To get away from everything loud, fake and exhausting. But then I saw you. And you’re real. You don’t pretend. And somehow that just—”

He breaks off, shakes his head. “You got under my skin before I even knew your name.”

I can’t breathe.

Because everything in me wants to believe him.

But everything in me also wants to retreat—pull back before I fall too far. Before I forget how to guard the pieces I’ve kept hidden for so long.

Because if I believe this, and it’s not real, I don’t know how I could come back from that.

My throat tightens. I feel it before I can stop it.

The old ache. The one I don’t let out. Not even when I’m alone.

Not on nights when the questions get louder than sleep.

Not in the mornings when I wake up wondering why I was so easy to leave.

Noah’s thumb brushes my cheek. “You okay?”

“I don’t know where to put my hands,” I whisper with a shaky laugh, panicked by how true that feels.

He steps in. Close enough that I feel the heat radiating off him.

“Put them anywhere,” he murmurs. “Or nowhere. I’m not going to push.”

His voice is so quiet. Gentle. Nothing like the man who dragged me out of the firehouse.

He’s not trying to win right now. He’s trying to be honest.

So, I do the only thing that feels honest back—maybe not smart, maybe not safe, but honest.

I look up at him, and in that second, I see it. Not just the heat or hunger—but the vulnerability. The part of him that’s unsure, waiting. Like he’s offering something he doesn’t fully understand yet but still means with every part of himself.

And despite every word I just said about wanting more, about not settling—I reach for his coat lapel anyway.

Because right now, if I’m real with myself—I want his kiss. Not forever. Just… this.

I want to know what it feels like to be wanted.

So, I pull him closer.

Our lips meet.

It's a surrendering touch—not fireworks or flames—it's a flood.

His mouth is warm, sure, devastating against mine. Every nerve ending flares to life, like I've been sleepwalking until this moment.

My hands tremble as they grip his jacket tightly.

Because I wa nt to cling to him—and every part of me is screaming don’t.

Don’t lose yourself.

Don’t do what you’ve spent your whole life promising yourself you wouldn’t.

The kind of mistake that leaves someone or more behind.

But his hands are on my waist now.

And when he deepens the kiss, when his tongue grazes mine and he groans into my mouth—I taste him.

Warmth. Want. Something that doesn’t feel rushed or practiced, but real. It feels like recognition. Like our mouths were always meant to find each other.

Like heat and winter. Like cinnamon and something expensive I’ll never afford. His breath stutters against mine, like he’s just as overwhelmed by this as I am.

The connection slams into me, full force. It isn’t just physical—it’s emotional, intimate. Terrifying.

Then Noah moans and pushes me into the brick wall.

And I’m gone.

Emotion coils tight in my chest. Not lust.

Need.

Need to be seen. To be chosen. To be kept.

I kiss him like I want him to understand all of that.

And then I break it.

I step back, breath shivering out of me, heart pounding.

“I can’t,” I whisper.

His breath rasps out, “Did I—?”

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I—” I shake my head. “I wanted that too. Too much.”

I pause, my chest still rising and falling too fast. Then I glance up at him again, and softer this time, I add, “I’m sorry if I confused you. I know I just said I need everything or nothing, and then I… kissed you.”

He doesn’t say a word, but his eyes speak volume. Like he’s memorizing every detail of a challenge he intends to overcome.

“I meant what I said. I still do. But that kiss? It was me telling the truth in the only way I could handle right then.”

His eyes search mine. “So, what now?”

“I go home,” I say softly. “And thank you… for the kiss.”

His brows twitch, like he’s unsure what to make of that.

“Thank you for letting me feel something real,” I continue. “Like I was actually in my body, actually honest with myself for a second. And I needed that.”

"If you think I’m letting you walk away for good…" Noah stirs.

I shake my head gently. “But that’s all it can be. Because this—a “maybe”? A fling? A fantasy with an expiration date?—this isn’t what I want. Not when I’ve spent my whole life holding out for more. I need the kind of love that stays—and I can’t pretend this doesn’t feel like a setup to lose something I haven’t even had yet.”

I turn and walk away—every step heavier than the last.

Because the truth is, that kiss?

It didn’t feel like a mistake at all.

It felt like the beginning of everything I've ever wanted and everything I've trained myself to avoid.

It felt like sunrise after years of darkness. It felt like home in the arms of someone who's always leaving.

It scares me—how easily he slips past every defense I’ve built since I was a little girl. How my body recognizes something in him that my mind is still fighting.

And as the firehouse door closes behind me, and the town’s noise embraces me again, I realize— I'm not just walking away from Noah Verelli.

I'm walking away from the only time my heart has ever truly recognized its match.

And I’m not sure I know how to survive its ending.