Chapter 3: Too Close

Three weeks in and I’m starting to forget what my own bed feels like.

I still keep my little apartment with Grandma, but most nights I end up at Noah’s penthouse. It just happens. I go over after my cleaning shift, tell myself I’ll leave by midnight, and then I wake up with his arm around me and city lights still glowing outside the windows.

Grandma’s doing better. A lot better. The new treatment worked fast color back in her cheeks, she’s even baking again. She keeps saying “some kind soul paid for it all” and I smile and nod, feeling the lie sit heavy in my stomach.

Tonight I’m later than usual. The diner was busy and my feet hurt. When the private elevator opens, Noah’s on the couch in sweatpants and a t-shirt, laptop closed beside him. He looks up and smiles small, but real.

“You’re late.”

“Rough shift.” I drop my bag and kick off my shoes. “Some guy left a two-dollar tip on a fifty-dollar bill and told me to smile more.”

Noah’s face darkens. He stands, walks over, and pulls me into his arms without asking. I let my head rest on his chest. He smells like soap and warmth.

“You don’t have to keep that job,” he says quietly.

“I know.” I do know. He’s told me a dozen times I can quit both jobs. But if I quit, what am I then? Just the girl he pays to sleep over?

He kisses the top of my head. “Hungry?”

I shake my head. I’m tired more than anything.

He leads me to the bedroom. No rush tonight. We undress slow, like we’ve done this a hundred times even though it’s only been a few weeks. When my bra comes off, his hands go straight to my breasts gentle at first, then firmer. He always does that. Like he can’t help it.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers against my skin.

I close my eyes. It feels good. Too good. His mouth follows his hands, soft kisses that make me shiver. When he lays me down and slides inside me, it’s slow and deep. I wrap my legs around him, hold on tight. My moans are quiet, but he hears them all. He always does.

After, he doesn’t roll away. He pulls me close, my back to his chest, hand resting on my hip.

I’m almost asleep when he speaks.

“I cleared your whole next month. Hospital, rent, everything.”

I turn in his arms to look at him. “Noah…”

“I wanted to.”

I don’t know what to say. Thank you feels too small. So I kiss him instead soft, slow. It turns into more. His hand slides up to cup my breast again, thumb brushing over my nipple until I’m breathing fast.

We go a second time, slower than the first. Face to face, eyes open. When I come, I bury my face in his neck so he won’t see the tears.

Because I’m starting to feel things I shouldn’t.

The next morning I wake up alone. There’s a note on the pillow.

Had an early meeting. Breakfast in the warmer. Text me when you wake up.

I smile before I can stop myself.

At Grandma’s later, she’s making cookies. She looks so much stronger it makes my chest hurt.

“Who’s the boy making you glow like that?” she teases.

I freeze. “What?”

“You’ve got that look, baby. Like your mom used to when she met your dad.”

I laugh it off. “Just sleeping better, I guess.”

She doesn’t push, but her eyes stay on me.

That night I go back to the penthouse. Noah’s waiting with takeout from my favorite cheap Thai place the one I told him about once in passing.

We eat on the couch, legs tangled. He asks about my day. I ask about his. It feels… normal. Too normal.

When we go to bed, I fall asleep with my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

I’m not in love yet.

But I’m scared I’m getting there.

And I don’t know what happens when I do.

To be continued…