The sound of my harsh breath is the only thing that breaks the silence. I can’t fucking?—
No.
Another deep breath.
Maybe two more.
“Jesus,” I groan and comb a hand through my hair as I shake my head. “Fine. I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to focus after that kiss, but yeah. Okay.”
“Yeah, uh...” He looks down and once more fidgets with his glasses. “Me either.”
I groan at the delicious blush on his cheeks and turn fully around to get myself under control... and to readjust my boner.
The timewe spend working out a few details of what I want to say, and how I want to approach this, is actually not awful.
It’s torture, of course, having him so close without being allowed to touch, because now I know my touch would be welcomed if not for a stupid company policy.
But this is Noah, so of course it’s interesting and entertaining as hell to talk about the few possibilities for the thesis statement.
“I like this one best.” I point to the notes he’s been taking, then reluctantly lean back. Because making a choice means we’re closer to our time here ending. “I start off by saying that if I woke up tomorrow with no money and no one knowing who I am, this is what I’d do. It’s important to recognize the privilege I grew up with. There’s also race to consider, and how that facilitates opportunities, so I’ll have to do some research on how to balance that.”
Noah nods in agreement.
“Acknowledge it, but maybe don’t base the whole book around it. If you do it might be more alienating to other communities than inviting.”
“That’s a good point,” I murmur.
“People know how successful you are, they recognize what you’ve built, that you know what you’re talking about. So being as vague as possible while also being very specific is the new art form you’ll have to learn. Or you could do like two or three possible pathways you’d take to survive.”
“There’s also intent,” I butt in, desperate to make this last. “What if I don’t want to make millions. What if the only thing I want is to live at the beach, eat well, and have somewhere to sleep at night.”
This time his nod is more exciting.
“You could present other cases based on lifestyle choices.”
Talking through possibilities with Noah might be the most fun thing I’ve ever done in my life.
And I don’t think that’s an exaggeration.
So when he’s finally standing by his rental car, looking up at me with nervous eyes, biting his bottom lip, I tell him.
“I don’t know how I’m going to do this without you. It’s so easy when I can talk things through with you.”
“You’ll do fine,” he mumbles, then once more pushes his glasses up his nose.
That does it.
I cup his cheeks and lean in slowly, giving him plenty of time to move away, which I’m expecting. But he doesn’t.
It’s significant, how steady his gaze is as he looks up at me, how he just waits, accepts.
That, more than anything, is what gives me hope.
So I kiss him softly, teasing his bottom lip, then his upper one, biting gently, licking away what little sting there is.
“See you soon, sweetheart,” I whisper, and after justone more kiss, I finally step back and watch him gather himself then drive away from me.
It’s true that I’ll use the time here to focus on the book, I already have too many ideas brimming out of me, but I still have a whole company to run, and now I have some research to add to my to-do list.