Noah catches me, his arms beneath mine to hold me upright, and when his eyes meet mine—there’s a wildness to them that feels unlike him.
“I’m sorry,” he manages raggedly. “I didn’t mean—” He swallows, drawing my eyes to the motion of his throat. It seems a little difficult for him. “I—”
I’m not sure what he’s trying to say, and I’m honestly not even sure if he knows. His eyes have drifted down to my mouth, staring at my lips like they’re a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. I can’t really make sense of what I’m feeling at this moment; do I want Noah to kiss me, or is that, too, the result of some ridiculous hormone-driven causation?
To be fair, his mouth does look . . . incredibly soft right now.
I think I’m about to do something very stupid, and I am pretty damned certain that Noah is about to let me, given the way he’s started to lean in a little, and the entire room smells like him, and it’s hard to think, and I just—
We jolt apart when the door suddenly opens behind us, and I can’t imagine what sort of sight we must make to the elderly janitor who frequents the halls here. The bright light of the fluorescents floods the closet as the door opens all the way, and both Noah and I seem to be struggling to come up with a good reason as to why we are shut away in a utility closet that probably smells like we were sucking face in it—if not worse.
“Kevin,” I sputter, doing my best to straighten my body even though my knees are a little shaky still. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
Kevin’s wrinkled cheeks dimple further with his sly smile, raising his hands and looking away. “I didn’t see nothing.”
“No, wait,” I try again. “We’re not—”
Kevin closes the door to leave us where he found us, and I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment like I’m some horny teenager who’s just been caught at school. I groan as I lean back against one of the shelves, throwing an arm over my face.
“It had to be Kevin,” I huff. “He’s a gossipy old bastard.”
Noah still looks stunned when I sneak a peek at him, his mouth parted in shock as he struggles to make words. “I’m so sorry,” he tries. “I never meant—”
I wave him off. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” I ignore the way my heart is still racing. “I mean, rumors only strengthen our story, I guess.”
Noah is quiet for a second, blinking at me like he’s still processing.
“Right,” he finally agrees. “Sure.”
“I’ll bring him doughnuts tomorrow,” I say with a sigh. “That should buy a little of his discretion.”
“Okay,” Noah says in that same wooden tone.
He looks concerned. Is he thinking about how we almost overstepped just now? Is he regretting it?
Hell. Am I?
I try to laugh it off. “This whole scent thing is a real doozy, isn’t it?”
“Increasingly so,” he says matter-of-factly, still staring at me a little too intensely for comfort.
“At least I smell like you again,” I offer.
He surprises me when he steps closer, my body stiffening as he leans in to inhale against my throat. “Yes,” he murmurs. “You do now.”
“You’d better—” I swallow thickly, my throat feeling suddenly dry. “You’d better go out first,” I tell him. “Make sure the coast is clear.”
“Okay,” he answers softly. “I’ll see you later?”
I nod, my lips pressed together as I resist the urge to breathe him in again for fear of what it might do to me. “Yeah. I’ll see you.”
I don’t move as he carefully leaves me alone in the closet, never daring to take a breath until I hear the door quietly latch behind him. The thick aroma of his scent clings to the air, and even a full minute after he’s gone, it still makes my knees do the cursed wobbly thing.
It takes me at least three minutes to collect myself and leave the closet, and five more for me to remember that I didn’t even ask him about dinner with Gran. However, it only takes me one to decide that I will absolutely not be going to find him again. That feels dangerous to my health right now.
I’ll settle for texting him later.
* * *
?Getting through the rest of my shift proves difficult. Not only because I had to pop an elderly woman’s hip back in place after she tripped over her cat （I have never heard a woman curse a feline as much as I did this afternoon）， but also because ever since Noah and I left that closet—I can’t seem to calm down. My skin is perpetually tingly, and my head feels almost cloudy, like it would rather be somewhere else. It’s made it incredibly hard to stay focused. By the last hour of my shift, while I’m carefully tying sutures for the sleeping man who apparently faints at the sight of blood, it is made painfully aware to me that my erratic behavior this afternoon hasn’t gone unnoticed.