JEALOSY
1581 Words
It started with laughter.
Not hers. His.
Olivia heard it before she saw him—deep and low, the kind of laugh that meant Noah Reed was comfortable. Happy, even. And when she turned the corner into the campus courtyard, there he was. Sitting on a bench. With her.
Aubrey Hamilton. All legs, perfect teeth, and a voice like honey. She was laughing too, one hand lightly resting on Noah’s arm as if it had always belonged there.
Olivia froze mid-step.
It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Noah with another girl, but it was the first time it felt like a punch to the ribs. Something sharp and unexpected twisting in her chest. It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t hers. She wasn’t his. They weren’t anything, not really.
Except… everything.
Her heart betrayed her, pulsing louder than it should have as she forced herself to keep walking. She didn’t look their way again, didn’t let her pace quicken, didn’t give in to the crack that had just split wide open inside her.
But he saw her.
She knew he did. He always did.
Noah’s eyes flicked up the second she passed, and something about his expression shifted—just for a second—before he turned back to Aubrey like it meant nothing. Like she meant nothing.
By the time Olivia reached the other end of the courtyard, her hands were curled into fists inside her jacket pockets.
That night, she couldn’t sleep.
Not because of Noah. At least, that’s what she told herself. But her mind replayed the image of his smile over and over like it was branded into her thoughts. His effortless charm. The way Aubrey leaned in. The way he let her.
Why did it matter?
She rolled over in bed, punched her pillow once, and cursed herself for caring.
He’s not yours, Olivia. Let it go.
But she couldn’t. Not this time.
Two days passed before she saw him again—alone, in the art building stairwell. She hadn’t planned on running into him. But when he turned the corner and nearly collided with her, everything she’d bottled up came rushing back at once.
“Hey,” he said, steady as ever. Too steady.
“Hey,” she echoed, but it was colder than she meant it to be.
He raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”
She shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”
“I’ve been busy,” she snapped before she could stop herself.
A pause. His eyes narrowed slightly, studying her like he could see everything she was trying to bury.
“You saw me with Aubrey,” he said.
She didn’t answer.
“You’re jealous.”
“No,” she lied too quickly.
He smiled, slow and infuriating. “You are jealous.”
And that did it. “What exactly do you want me to say, Noah? That I loved watching you flirt with her like she’s the only person on this planet?”
He blinked, surprised at the heat in her voice. She rarely snapped like this. He liked getting under her skin—but this felt different. Raw. Real.
“No,” he said softly. “I want you to be honest.”
She stepped closer, almost nose-to-nose with him now. “You want honesty? Fine. It made me sick. Watching you smile at her like that. Watching her touch you like she had any right to. Like you’d just… let her.”
Silence.
Something hung in the air between them. It wasn’t anger. Not anymore.
Noah moved first. His hand slid up, cupping her jaw gently, thumb brushing over her cheek. “You think I let her touch me because I wanted her?”
Olivia’s breath caught.
“You think I smile like that with anyone else?” he whispered.
His words were too close. His voice too low. Every nerve in her body lit up.
“I don’t know what to think,” she said, barely audible. “You confuse me.”
He leaned in, and their foreheads touched. Soft. Electric.
“I confuse myself around you,” he murmured.
Then silence again. But this time, it wasn’t tense. It was thick with something else—want, need, history, heat. Neither of them moved. Neither of them dared to break it.
And then, slowly, Olivia tilted her chin up.
Their lips met.
It wasn’t rushed or wild—it was intentional. Every inch of tension they’d built for months poured into that kiss. His mouth was warm and certain against hers, but still careful, like he was waiting for her to pull away. She didn’t.
She leaned in harder.
His hands moved to her waist, and she grabbed at his jacket, grounding herself, losing herself. The stairwell faded. Time blurred.
When they finally broke apart, she didn’t step back.
She just stared at him, breathing unevenly. “That was…”
“Real,” he said. “Don’t tell me it wasn’t.”
She didn’t.
Instead, she rested her forehead against his chest, her pride cracking open completely for the first time.
And for the first time, Noah didn’t try to fix the silence.
He just held her.
Noah’s hands didn’t leave her waist.
Even after the kiss ended, even after the silence settled again like dust, he held her like he wasn’t ready to let go—and Olivia didn’t want him to. Not this time.
Her pride had kept her distant for too long. She’d drawn lines, built walls, kept her feelings hidden behind sharp words and sideways glances. But now, standing there in the dimly lit stairwell, his breath brushing against her skin, those walls crumbled with terrifying ease.
“I should go,” she whispered, though her fingers curled tighter into the fabric of his jacket.
“You don’t want to,” Noah said, his voice low, steady, magnetic.
And she didn’t.
He took a step back—not away from her, but toward the door at the top of the stairs. He didn’t say anything else, just held out his hand, eyes locked on hers, waiting.
Olivia stared at his hand for half a heartbeat. Then she took it.
—They didn’t make it far once they reached his apartment.
The door barely clicked shut before Noah had her pressed against it, lips crashing into hers with all the tension they’d pretended didn’t exist. His hands tangled in her hair as hers slid beneath his jacket, tugging him closer, anchoring herself to something she didn’t even understand yet.
“You make me crazy,” he murmured between kisses.
“Good,” she breathed, her mouth moving to his jaw, “maybe now we’re even.”
He laughed—deep, breathless—and then caught her mouth again, hungrier this time. His hands slipped under her shirt, thumbs grazing the bare skin at her waist, and Olivia’s breath hitched at the contact.
It was fire. All of it.
Years of tension unraveled with every touch. There was no hesitation now—just heat, just want, just them. Olivia let him guide her toward the couch, their limbs tangled, kisses messier, deeper. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he settled between them, and her head tipped back when he kissed the side of her neck, slow and deliberate.
“You’re not a game, Olivia,” he whispered against her skin. “You never were.”
That undid her.
Because he meant it.
And it wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, charged, unspoken things coming alive between bodies that were finally done pretending. Every look, every graze, every breath was soaked in all the feelings they never dared to name.
He slipped her shirt over her head, eyes roaming her like she was a secret he’d been desperate to uncover. His hands followed, warm and reverent. Her fingers found the hem of his shirt next, pulling it free, revealing the strong lines of his chest, the tension in his muscles, the way his eyes darkened the longer he looked at her.
They took their time—slow, intentional, like they knew what they were doing wasn’t just about lust. It was about claiming something they’d both tried to deny.
When their bodies finally met fully, it was a kind of relief Olivia hadn’t known she needed. A breaking open. A surrender.
And in that moment, with his skin against hers, his hands gripping her like he couldn’t stand to be anywhere else—Olivia Grant stopped fighting the truth.
She wanted Noah Reed.
Not because he challenged her. Not because he frustrated her.
But because in the middle of all that chaos, he saw her.
And she wanted to be seen.
—
Afterward, the room was quiet. Only their breathing remained.
Olivia lay tucked against him on the couch, her fingers tracing the edge of his collarbone. Noah stared at the ceiling like he was still trying to believe it had actually happened.
“You okay?” he asked quietly, turning his head to look at her.
She nodded, then met his gaze. “Yeah.”
A pause.
“No regrets?”
Her answer came without hesitation.
“Only that I didn’t let it happen sooner.”
He smiled, and this time—it wasn’t smug or teasing.
It was real.
And she knew… this wasn’t the end of the story.
It was just the beginning of a different one.
- Writer
