Page 35 of Two Weeks to Fall in Love

Two Weeks to Kiss the Guy

The party was still in full swing. It was clear that some people were going from tipsy to drunk fairly quickly. An uncomfortable feeling spread through me and I squeezed Noah’s hand to get his attention.

“I think I need to go check on Mel, and make sure she’s okay.” I felt bad for leaving my best friend alone at this party when I’d begged her to come. Maybe she could join us on the house tour.

Noah just grinned at me and nodded in the direction of the designated dance floor. My eyes followed his gaze and settled on the familiar shape of my best friend dancing with his pink-haired sister.

I stared at her, my mouth falling open when I noticed she had a huge grin on her face. Tara leaned toward her and said something, her hand grabbing hold of Melissa’s, and my best friend laughed.

“I haven’t seen Mel this happy in a long time,” I commented without really thinking about it, my lips pulling up into a smile.

“Same for Tara, actually.”

I turned to look at Noah, and tilted my head to the side. “Really? She seems like such a happy, bubbly person, though.”

“She’s really good at masking,” Noah said, and let out a sigh as he looked at his sister. “Usually the people who seem the happiest have the most scars.”

It felt like there was something oddly personal about that statement, seeing as how he always seemed to be full of energy and smiles. Maybe he was just as good at masking as his sister was.

“Ready for the infamous tour of the house?”

I nodded enthusiastically as Noah led me through the house.

Even though every room he showed me was obvious—living room, kitchen, first bathroom, guest room, second bathroom—he leaned toward me and spoke into my ear to introduce each one.

When we moved upstairs, the noise level decreased and there didn’t seem to be any other people there.

“How come this area is so deserted?” I asked, curious.

“The upstairs is off-limits. Even Tara makes sure that’s followed. Our dad’s study is here and he’d kill her if something happened to it.”

“Oh wow, now I feel special.”

“That’s because you are.” Noah winked at me, and my breath got stuck in my throat. My heart hiccupped.

Did he just call me special?

“And this is me,” he said, leaning on the wall next to a door, then pushing it open.

Oh shit. I’d never actually considered the tour would probably end at his room. Which kind of made me dense, because, hello , of course it would. I’d watched enough rom-coms and read enough romance books to know that the bedroom was always the end destination for any party or house tour.

I swallowed hard and noticed the smirk that popped up on his face as soon as he saw my uncertainty. As usual, my stubbornness kicked in, and I raised my head high before stomping inside, full of very fake confidence.

Noah chuckled and walked in after me, closing the door behind him.

His room was spacious, much more spacious than mine, but it also seemed like it wasn’t really lived in.

There was a bed, a small couch and TV, a desk with some books, a guitar and a keyboard tucked into a corner, and another shelf with books.

That was it. No pictures, no posters, no stickers of his favorite bands.

The room felt very . . .

“Sterile.”

“Well, that’s the first time I’ve heard someone describe it that way.”

And that was when I realized I’d spoken that last part out loud. My whole face heated in embarrassment and I turned around to face him with a horrified expression. Noah just laughed when he saw me and shook his hand dismissively.

“Don’t feel bad, I don’t really live here most of the time,” he said, his fingers tapping idly against his bookshelf.

“What do you mean? Where do you live, then?” I asked, instantly concerned that his sister had just broken into a random house to host this party.

“It’s my dad’s house,” Noah answered, and grinned in a way that told me he could tell the direction my mind had been going in.

“I thought your parents weren’t divorced?”

“They’re not. But after what happened with Jake’s mom, my dad thought moving out would make it all less stressful on my mom. It did the opposite really; I think it just stressed her out more.” Noah let out a sigh and moved to sit down on the small couch.

He was trying to make his words sound nonchalant but there was obvious hurt in his voice—something he was trying to mask, and I had no intention of making that difficult.

I walked over to the musical instruments in the corner and turned back to smile at him. “I forgot you were like a music prodigy.”

Noah snorted, shaking his head. “Far from a prodigy. Music lessons can make anyone good at playing if they practice.”

“So dismissive of your talents.” I tsk ed at him and he shrugged, a goofy grin on his face. He rubbed the area of the couch next to him and I took a quick breath before moving to sit there.

The music and noise from downstairs was barely audible here. It felt private, and it was easy to forget there even was a party downstairs.

“You sure it’s okay we’re up here? Don’t you have to keep an eye on the party?” I asked, aggressively twirling a strand of my hair around my index finger, my eyes looking everywhere but at him.

His hand reached out and took hold of mine, stopping the assault on my hair. “I think we’re good. For a while, at least.”

“Uh, do you wanna do some questions, then?” I asked, feeling increasingly more nervous by the second and just praying for something to distract me from the fact that we were very alone behind a very closed door.

“Good idea, we still have quite a few.” Noah nodded and pursed his lips in thought. “Okay, it’s time for the classic question of . . . your house is on fire. You save your loved ones and pets and you still have time to save one material item. What would it be and why?”

“Ugh,” I mumbled and rolled my eyes.

“What?” Noah asked, chuckling at my reaction.

“Nothing, I just always thought that was such a stupid question. Why would you take just one item? Like might as well grab anything in the proximity of that item if you’re already there.”

For a second he was just quiet and then he laughed.

“That’s such a typical Skyler Fox answer, I should have known.

” Then he shook his head and, grin still firmly on his face, tried again.

“Let’s say for argument’s sake that you’re too panicked to think of filling a duffel bag with everything that winds up in your path, and you had to choose one item. ”

“Fine.” I caved and let out a sigh. “I guess in this not-at-all-believable scenario, I’d take my photo album.”

“Your photo album?” Noah asked, justifiably curious, considering printed photo albums were probably close to being extinct.

“Yeah, a Polaroid one. My parents got me a Polaroid camera when I was thirteen. For a long time I took a lot of pictures of everyone and everything. Including my grandma, who’s no longer around. I’d want to save those memories.”

“You don’t take pictures anymore?”

I shook my head and shrugged. “Not really. I just kind of stopped one day. I still look through the Polaroids occasionally, though.”

“I’d love to see them one day,” he said, and squeezed my hand.

“Maybe I’ll show you, one day.”

Noah grinned at that, as if I’d just promised him a pot of gold, and I started feeling a few shades too hot again.

“What about you?” I asked, needing a distraction.

“Hm. There’s a guitar. Not this one, another one, back at home,” he started, and I instantly knew that for him home was the house his mom was in.

“It’s the first instrument that was ever mine.

My mom got it for me after seeing me stare at it in a store window.

I didn’t know how to do anything but make awful noise back then, and still my mom would sit there and happily clap like it was the best sound she’d heard in her life. ”

As always when he talked about his mom, his face seemed soft and full of love, but there was sadness there too.

Probably due to everything she’d gone through because of his dad.

I also couldn’t blame him for his obvious dislike of his dad.

The more he spoke about his mom, the more wonderful she sounded and the less I understood how someone could ever cheat on a person like that, let alone repeatedly.

“She sounds like an amazing mom.” I mentioned one part of my thoughts out loud.

“She’s the best,” Noah said, his voice gentle, the warmth in it making my heartbeat stutter. “Time for the next one?”

I nodded and he went back to thinking, and then his eyes widened and he turned to face me. “I remembered a good one: What does love mean to you?”

A shiver ran through me. That was a loaded question in this situation, and I had no idea how I was supposed to answer it. Luckily, at least I’d have time to think it through since he had to go first this time. I gave him the go-ahead hand gesture.

“Ah, yes, me first.” Noah cleared his throat and bit down on his lower lip.

“As you now know, I don’t have the best opinion of love.

For me love and affection are just a road toward pain.

It’s giving another person the chance to break you.

But I guess there’s also a part of me that wants to believe there’s more to it than that. ”

Yeah, I should have expected that answer from Mr. I Don’t Believe in Love.

Then again, I couldn’t exactly judge him for that outlook anymore.

Not after I’d found out how warped his experience with seeing love in others was.

He didn’t have my warm childhood of watching parents who were clearly still in love even after all these years.

“I think for me, it’s the opposite.” Time to open up, Skyler . “I know I made it look like I’m some expert in love, which is, like, far from the truth. But I do have a strong opinion on it.”

“You don’t say?” Noah commented with a grin, and I glared at him. “Sorry, sorry, please continue.”

“Anyway.” I cleared my throat and looked at the floor while speaking because it seemed easier.

“I think love makes you strong. It helps you face things you’d usually be afraid of facing because you know you’re never alone, or well, even when you are alone, you’re never lonely.

Love is kindness, and patience, and trust. It’s being vulnerable and giving someone the option to break you but trusting that they won’t.

“And sure, some people might break that trust and won’t deserve that love, but that says something about them, not you. Love isn’t perfect. It’s messy, and complicated, and difficult, but it’s also the most beautiful, amazing thing you’ll ever feel. Love and life are kind of similar in that way.”

I exhaled and swallowed hard. This was a lot to dump on someone like Noah, who had the complete opposite view of things, but I couldn’t help but hope that maybe at least some of that would give him hope that love didn’t have to be the villain of his story.

The silence that stretched between us made me think that maybe I had just made a fool of myself—after all, I had prefaced all of this by stating I didn’t know much and then did a whole spiel as if I had a doctorate degree on that emotion.

I was becoming nervous, so I steeled my nerves and chanced a glance at Noah.

He seemed frozen in place, staring at me with an unreadable expression, a mixture of emotions I couldn’t interpret.

But his eyes burned with such intensity that it was impossible to maintain a stare.

I took a deep breath and tried to stifle the heat that was warming my body.

Time to change the subject .

“Okay, next question,” I muttered, clearing my throat.

“Can I kiss you?”

My brain short-circuited. There was no way I’d heard that correctly.

“Sorry, what?” I glanced at him nervously.

His gaze went from my eyes to my lips with intense focus.

The attention made me realize that I had probably heard him correctly the first time and now he was going to repeat the same thing and make my heart stop on the spot.

Noah let out a silent hum and licked his lips before leaning a bit closer to me.

“I’d really like to kiss you, Skyler,” he said, and his voice, hoarse with emotion, sent a shiver down my spine. “Is that okay?”

I could feel my heart in my throat, pounding so quickly I was sure it was about to jump straight out. Noah Archer wanted to kiss me .

And, if I was being honest with myself, I wanted him to kiss me.

“Yes,” I whispered, my breath catching in my throat.

One corner of Noah’s lips pulled up for a second, before he zeroed in on my lips and his face went serious again, the heated focus in his eyes unmistakable.

He reached out his hand and gently brushed his fingers along my cheek before slowly tracing the curve of my nose, stopping for a second when he reached the tip.

Then his hand brushed against my ear, finally settling on the back of my head as his fingers curled against my nape.

He leaned closer, slowly, maddeningly. I closed my eyes.

As I waited, my head felt like a mess of white noise and anxious heartbeats.

His nose brushed against the tip of mine lightly, and then his lips pressed against mine.

My heart stuttered in my chest, and the whole situation felt like an out-of-body experience.

It was the softest kiss at first, a whisper of a kiss, really.

Then his fingers tightened around my hair, and that light pressure snapped me back into the moment.

I kissed him back. His tongue brushed against my lips, and I let him deepen the kiss, and oh my . The kiss was no longer just a whisper. It was a bold, loud statement .

My head was getting dizzy. Oxygen was becoming low in supply. Just when I was starting to wonder whether I was going to pass out from too much kissing, Noah pulled back.

He pulled back but he didn’t pull away, leaning his forehead against mine. One of my hands was resting on his chest, and I could feel his heartbeat pounding under my palm, just as erratic as mine.

“Damn, that was way better than I imagined,” Noah muttered, taking in a shaky breath.

“You imagined this?”

“Oh yes, many times,” he said, pulling back a little to stare into my eyes, a mischievous smirk on those devilish lips.

“I think we could do better,” I said, licking my lips.

His eyes instantly followed the motion of my tongue. “Do you, now?”

“Yup.”

“Well, I definitely don’t mind t—”

I wrapped my fingers around his collar, pulled him closer, and did the only thing that made sense at that moment.

I shut him up with another kiss.