Pretend We Don't Feel It

Chapter 2: The Rule

The house was quiet after midnight.

Not completely silent.

Old houses were never silent.

They breathed.

The walls creaked. Pipes groaned somewhere deep inside the structure. The air-conditioning hummed softly through the vents. Outside, insects sang their endless summer song beneath the darkness.

Ava lay awake staring at the ceiling.

She hated unfamiliar places.

Hated unfamiliar beds.

Hated the strange feeling of sleeping beneath a roof that didn't belong to her.

Every shadow seemed wrong.

Every sound felt foreign.

Most of all, she hated that she couldn't stop thinking about Noah Hayes.

The realization annoyed her.

She had known him for less than a day.

One day.

That was it.

Yet somehow his face kept appearing in her mind.

The way he watched people instead of speaking.

The way his smile appeared suddenly and disappeared just as fast.

The way he seemed to understand exactly how uncomfortable she felt without her ever having to explain it.

Ava groaned and rolled onto her side.

This was ridiculous.

She was tired.

Emotionally drained.

That was all.

Tomorrow everything would feel normal.

Eventually Noah would become nothing more than the boy who happened to live down the hall.

Her stepbrother.

The word felt strange.

Uncomfortable.

Dangerous.

Ava sat up abruptly.

Sleep wasn't happening.

Not tonight.

She climbed out of bed and crossed the room.

Moonlight spilled through the window, bathing everything in silver.

Outside, the neighborhood looked peaceful.

Still.

Dreamlike.

Her gaze drifted toward the section of roof that stretched beneath her bedroom window.

The same roof she had noticed earlier.

The perfect place to think.

Without allowing herself time to reconsider, Ava opened the window.

Warm summer air immediately flooded the room.

She climbed out carefully and lowered herself onto the shingles.

The roof was still warm from the afternoon sun.

For the first time all day, she felt herself relax.

The stars stretched endlessly overhead.

Thousands of tiny lights scattered across the darkness.

Beautiful.

Distant.

Untouchable.

Ava wrapped her arms around her knees and stared upward.

When she was younger, her father used to teach her the names of constellations.

She hadn't thought about that in years.

The memory arrived unexpectedly.

Sharp enough to hurt.

Funny how grief worked.

You could go months without feeling it.

Then suddenly a random summer night would remind you of everything you'd lost.

Ava closed her eyes.

The ache settled heavily inside her chest.

"Couldn't sleep either?"

The voice nearly gave her a heart attack.

Ava jerked around.

Noah sat several feet away.

Hidden in the shadows.

Watching the sky.

Not her.

The sky.

Which somehow made his presence less alarming.

"You scared me."

His lips twitched.

"Sorry."

"You weren't."

"Not really."

Ava sighed dramatically.

"You know, most normal people announce their existence."

"I thought I did."

"You waited until I was emotionally vulnerable."

"That sounds serious."

"It is."

For a moment silence settled between them.

Comfortable silence.

Which surprised her.

Most people made silence awkward.

Noah didn't.

He simply sat beside her, looking at the stars as though he belonged there.

As though he belonged everywhere.

The thought lingered longer than it should have.

"So," Noah said eventually.

"First day survived."

"Barely."

"That good, huh?"

Ava laughed softly.

The sound drifted into the night air.

The tension she'd been carrying all day seemed lighter somehow.

Less overwhelming.

Maybe because Noah wasn't trying to force conversation.

Maybe because he wasn't pretending everything was perfect.

Or maybe because she felt strangely understood around him.

A dangerous realization.

Dangerous because she liked it.

Dangerous because she wanted more of it.

"You really hate it here?" Noah asked quietly.

Ava considered the question.

The honest answer surprised her.

"No."

His eyebrows lifted.

"No?"

"I hate that I had to leave my old life."

Noah nodded.

Understanding immediately.

"You didn't get a choice."

"No."

His gaze returned to the stars.

"Neither did I."

Something about the way he said it made Ava look at him.

Really look at him.

For the first time all day, she noticed the exhaustion hiding beneath his calm exterior.

The loneliness.

The sadness.

The things people worked hard to hide.

Things she recognized because she hid them too.

The realization created an uncomfortable warmth inside her chest.

Connection.

The word appeared before she could stop it.

Connection was dangerous.

Especially when it happened this quickly.

Especially with someone she shouldn't be connecting with.

Neither spoke for a while.

The neighborhood remained asleep.

The stars remained distant.

And somehow, sitting beside Noah felt easier than being anywhere else.

That realization frightened her more than anything.

Because easy wasn't supposed to happen.

Not here.

Not with him.

Not ever.

"Can I ask you something?"

His voice broke the silence.

Ava nodded.

"Depends what it is."

Noah hesitated.

For the first time since meeting him, he seemed uncertain.

The sight was strangely unsettling.

"What?"

He laughed softly.

"I'm trying to figure out how to ask this."

"That's never a good sign."

"No."

A pause.

Then:

"Do you ever feel like something is a bad idea before it even starts?"

The question caught her off guard.

Ava stared at him.

Her pulse quickened unexpectedly.

Because somehow she knew exactly what he meant.

The terrifying part?

She suspected he knew she knew.

The realization hung heavily between them.

Neither moved.

Neither looked away.

And suddenly the distance separating them felt impossibly small.

"Sometimes," Ava answered quietly.

Noah nodded.

His jaw tightened.

The night seemed to hold its breath.

"So do I."

Ava swallowed.

Something had changed.

She couldn't explain it.

Couldn't name it.

But she felt it.

The same way people sensed storms before they arrived.

A pressure in the air.

A warning.

And somehow Noah felt it too.

His gaze met hers.

Dark eyes.

Steady eyes.

Dangerous eyes.

The world seemed to narrow.

Until there was only the rooftop.

Only the stars.

Only him.

Neither of them looked away.

The moment stretched.

Longer.

Longer.

Then Noah exhaled sharply.

Almost frustrated.

Almost defeated.

"We should probably establish a rule."

Ava blinked.

"A rule?"

"Several rules, actually."

"That's concerning."

His laugh was short.

Humorless.

"Trust me."

Ava's heartbeat accelerated.

She already knew.

Before he said it.

Before he explained.

Some part of her already knew.

"We're step-siblings now."

The words landed heavily.

Neither of them liked hearing them.

That much was obvious.

"So?"

Noah looked away first.

Toward the stars.

Toward safety.

Anywhere but her.

"So this gets complicated really fast."

The honesty startled her.

Most people would have pretended.

Denied.

Avoided.

Not Noah.

Noah looked directly at the problem.

Even when it terrified him.

Especially when it terrified him.

Ava felt her pulse hammering inside her chest.

The truth sat between them.

Unspoken.

Growing larger every second.

Neither wanted to say it.

Because saying it would make it real.

And real things were impossible to ignore.

Finally Noah spoke.

His voice was barely above a whisper.

"We pretend we don't feel it."

The words seemed to echo through the darkness.

Ava stared at him.

Every rational part of her wanted to laugh.

Wanted to tell him he was imagining things.

Wanted to insist there was nothing to feel.

But that would have been a lie.

And they both knew it.

The terrifying part wasn't that she felt it.

The terrifying part was how quickly it had happened.

How naturally.

How inevitably.

Like something that had been waiting for them before they ever met.

Ava looked away.

Toward the stars.

Toward anything except Noah Hayes.

Unfortunately, nothing worked.

Because she could still feel him sitting beside her.

Still feel the gravity pulling them toward something neither of them wanted.

Or maybe something they wanted far too much.

"Okay," she whispered.

Noah looked at her.

"Okay?"

Ava nodded.

The word hurt.

More than it should have.

"We pretend."

For a long moment neither moved.

Neither spoke.

The rule had been established.

The line had been drawn.

Everything should have felt safer.

Instead, Ava felt worse.

Because now they both knew.

And once you knew something, you could never unknow it.

Especially not feelings.

Especially not the dangerous kind.

Especially not when they looked exactly like Noah Hayes sitting beside her beneath a sky full of stars.

Pretending would be easy.

At first.

Neither of them understood just how impossible it would become.