Echo accepts my hand with a wicked glint in her eyes. “Then let’s go.”
Echo
Every time Noah and I have entered a hotel room this summer, a cocoon of nerves has formed in my stomach, and the moment his lips touched mine, millions of butterflies have spread their wings and flown in this fast race of nervous adrenaline and lust.
But tonight...it’s different.
Noah’s different.
I’m different.
Together...we’re different.
Noah shuts the door behind him, and the click becomes this familiar sound that causes me to smile. Noah struts past, and the quick sweep of my body tells me he’s already devoured me in eight different ways in his mind. Just guessing his fantasies, my body temperature peaks. Heat gathers in every single delicious right area.
We left Louisville with two high school diplomas, a couple hundred dollars in cash and a lot of faith that we’d survive the summer. I left a girl, and he left a boy in a man’s body. This person in front of me, he’s no longer a boy, he’s fully a man.
It’s what I wanted for the summer...to change. I did change, but not in any of the ways I imagined. I changed in ways far better.
Noah’s phone pings, and he slips it out of his back pocket. He reads a message, and with a smirk he types something in return. “Isaiah and Beth are in for the night.”
“Tell him thanks for me. Beth, too.”
He drops the phone onto the bedside table, pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the ground, divulging each and every gorgeous ripped-out ab muscle. “Already have.”
Noah sinks onto the bed, and the expectant look in his eye tells me that he’s ready for me to join him. I’m ready, too. Standing a foot from him, I slide off my shirt, and his eyes darken with the movement. It’s not the first time I’ve done this in front of him, but the rest of it is new.
There’s an undercurrent of excitement in my belly. With a flick of a button, I shimmy off my cutoffs, with a lot less grace than desired, and leave on my bra and underwear. I hope that he enjoys whatever little show I put on, but more important, I love what Noah sees as I strip—the girl he fell in love with...the girl who loves him.
Before walking over to him, I study my scars, and what unnerves me is that the flash of disgust is missing. When it comes to the scars, there’s nothing lurking. No hidden hate. No surge of embarrassment. No sadness. There’s nothing more, either. No giddiness. No awe, but I’m okay with that. It’s just an acknowledgement. A presence.
I glance up at Noah. “They don’t bother me. Not now, at least.” Hopefully, not ever again.
Noah stands and takes my hands, stretching my arms out in front of me. “Can I show you something?”
I nod, curious about why Noah’s pushed pause when we’re so close to naked and in bed. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he brings us over to the mirror. Then from behind me, he gently flips over my arms to reveal the scars and he brings my arms together as if I was shielding myself. “Do you see it?”
“See what?”
“How you fell.”
My eyes shoot straight to my scars, and my heart pounds so quickly that it skips beats.
Noah swipes his thumb over the pulse point on my wrist. “Easy, baby. Just take it slow.”
I breathe in, and Noah exhales along with me. Releasing one of my hands, Noah traces one finger along a scar on my right arm then connects that scar directly to the one on the left.
“This one must have been the deepest,” he says gently. “It’s the longest, too. There are some that don’t connect, but these...” Another slow caress against my skin, then another highlighting of areas. “They’re the same cut. You must have brought your arms up to shield yourself.”
My mouth dries out and like the constellations in the sky, I notice how the lines connect, how a gut reaction probably saved my life. I prevented those sharp pieces of glass from piercing my lungs, my heart.
“Do they ever bother you?” I ask.
Noah draws my arm toward his lips. “Never.”
Letting him handle my weight, I lean back against Noah. I stare at our image in the mirror and see two people who love each other very much and will do anything to help heal old wounds.
There’s an intimacy in this moment, and it’s not the kind I originally thought we would share when we first walked in. It’s a better type. The kind that lasts. “What if I said I just need you to hold me tonight?”
“I’d say that I could do that every night for the rest of my life and die a happy man.”
Noah takes my hand and leads me to the bed. “There’s something else I’d like to tell you.”
“I’m listening.”
“My mom named me Noah for a reason.”
With my head on his chest and our arms and legs tangled, I close my eyes and listen to Noah recall the rest of what his uncle had to say. I smile with the newfound hope in his voice. Noah was his mother’s second chance, and I wonder if he knows that he’s also my second chance at happiness.
I cuddle closer to him and rest, knowing that Noah is mine.