Arielle wasn’t sure what was louder:
the police sirens outside,
the pounding of her heart,
or the absolute humiliation of realizing she almost died holding a latte with a foam snowman drawn on top.
Great.
She would’ve died cute.
Noah stood beside her, quiet and tense, watching the destroyed lamppost like it had personally offended him.
“You’re shaking,” he said gently.
“I’m not shaking,” she lied. “I’m… vibrating. Like a phone. On silent.”
He stared at her.
“That’s worse,” he replied flatly.
Before she could answer, her teeth clacked together in a full-body shiver.
“Alright,” he sighed. “Come on.”
He put a hand on her elbow and guided her to a booth.
“Wait—Noah—I can walk— I have legs!”
“Your legs tried to walk into a truck, Arielle.”
“…Fair point.”
She plopped into the bo
