12. Noah’s Unexpected Kindness
672 Words
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 booth with all the grace of a collapsing Christmas tree. Noah slid into the opposite seat, folding his arms.
“That latte saved your life.”
She blinked at the cup still in her hands. “Of all the things… I’m saved by a beverage.”
“Better than dying because you didn’t have one,” he replied.
She groaned and covered her face. “I swear, if my obituary ever says ‘death by holiday bad luck,’ I will come back and haunt everyone.”
“Noted,” Noah said. “I’ll let them write ‘death by stubbornness’ instead.”
She peeked at him through her fingers. “Are you… teasing me?”
He didn’t smile. Not outwardly.
But his eyes?
Yep.
Smiling. Definitely smiling.
She gave an exhausted sigh. “I can’t believe returning a wallet turned into this.”
“You did the right thing,” he said simply.
“Yeah, well, my right things usually end in disaster.”
“Not this one.”
She frowned. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
He paused thoughtfully. “Because someone has to be.”
Her brain short-circuited.
Before she could respond, Noah stood up. “Stay here.”
She blinked. “Where are you going?”
“To get something warm for your hands. They’re practically icicles.”
“Excuse you—my hands are—okay no, they’re frozen.”
He walked away, and she yelled after him, “Get something with chocolate!”
He didn’t turn around, but she definitely saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
A minute later, he returned and slid a cup across the table.
Peppermint tea.
She stared at it.
“Tea?” she asked, unimpressed.
“Where’s the chocolate? The whipped cream? The sprinkles? The joy?”
“You need something soothing,” Noah said. “Not a sugar bomb.”
She scrunched her nose. “But sugar bombs heal emotional trauma.”
Noah lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t have trauma. You have… holiday issues.”
She smacked a hand to her chest. “Holiday issues are trauma.”
He laughed.
Actually laughed. A soft, warm sound that made her stomach flip like a Christmas cookie in the oven.
“Drink the tea,” he said, still amused.
She sipped.
It was warm. Calming.
Annoyingly perfect.
Her shoulders slumped. “Okay fine. This is good.”
“I know,” he said. Too smugly.
She pointed at him. “Stop that. I’m fragile right now.”
He leaned forward slightly. “Arielle… you almost died today.”
“And now you’re making me drink tea. I’m not sure which is worse.”
His smile softened, turning sincere.
“You deserve kindness,” he said quietly.
Her breath caught.
He wasn’t joking now.
He wasn’t teasing.
He meant it.
Arielle blinked hard, suddenly overwhelmed.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Really.”
Noah leaned back, eyes never leaving hers.
“You’re welcome, Arielle.”
Her heart made a weird thump–flip–jingle bell noise.
She ignored it.
Probably.
- Writer
