BOUNDED BY THE SAME LAST NAME

CHAPTER 1 THE LAST NAME The moving truck arrived at noon. Rain was falling hard. I hated this town already. Crestford looked like a gothic postcard. Too pretty. Too cold. "Mom said be nice," she reminded me again. Like I was five. Like I needed reminding. The house was massive. Too many windows. Too many secrets. Black gates. Ivy everywhere. This was his house now. My house too. Technically. He was on the porch. Waiting. Like a statue. Black hoodie. Wet hair. Arms crossed over chest. He didn't smile. So this was Noah. My new stepbrother. Seventeen. College freshman. Campus legend, apparently. Girls called him dangerous. Guys called him worse. "You're late," he said. Voice was low. Rough around the edges. Like he hadn't slept. "Traffic," I muttered. Dropped my duffel. Didn't offer my hand. He didn't offer his. Mom came running out. Umbrella in one hand. Fake smile on face. "Babies! Come inside!" She always did that. Called us babies. Noah rolled his eyes. Subtle. But I saw. He walked past me. Shoulder almost brushed mine. Smelled like rain and cedar. The inside was worse. Marble floors. Cold art. Photos on the wall. His family. Before me. Before my mom. "Your room's upstairs," he said over shoulder. Didn't look back. "Second door on left. Don't touch my stuff." Bossy already. Great start. My room was okay. Big bed. Bigger window. Looked out to his room. Across the hallway. Too close for comfort. I unpacked in silence. Clothes. Books. Headphones. The necklace dad gave me. I hid it fast. Noah didn't need to know. Dinner was awkward. Mom talked too much. His dad nodded politely. Noah ate without looking up. One word answers only. "Yes." "No." "Fine." I counted the seconds. Between each bite. Between each glance. He looked up once. Caught me staring. Looked away immediately. After dinner I escaped. Took a walk. Needed air. Needed space. Campus was ten minutes away. I knew because I checked. Three times. The library was open late. Perfect. Quiet. Empty. I picked a corner table. Opened my laptop. Started chapter one of my own story. Irony wasn't lost on me. Footsteps behind me. Heavy. Deliberate. I didn't look up. "You're not supposed to be here." That voice again. Noah. "This is a public library," I said. Didn't turn. "Last I checked." He sat down. Across from me. Didn't say anything. Just watched. I felt it. "What?" I snapped. Finally met his eyes. Gray. Stormy. Tired. "You always this rude?" "Only to family," he said. Ouch. Direct hit. "We're not family," I shot back. "By law maybe. Not by choice." He leaned back. Smirked a little. First sign of life. "Good. I hate sharing." "Sharing what?" "Space. Attention. Last name." He stood up. "Come on. It's late." "I didn't ask you to wait." "Didn't ask permission either." He walked to the door. Looked back once. "You coming or not?" I followed. Of course I followed. Rain had gotten worse. We didn't share an umbrella. Walked two feet apart. In perfect silence. At the gate he stopped. "Rule one," he said. "Don't follow me to parties." "Rule two," I countered. "Don't talk to me like that." He almost laughed. Almost. Inside, house was dark. Everyone asleep. We crept up stairs. Like kids breaking curfew. At the top he paused. Outside my door. "Goodnight, stepsister," he said. The word felt wrong. In his mouth especially. "Goodnight, stepbrother," I replied. He smirked. Walked away. Door closed behind him. I leaned against mine. Heart was beating weird. Too fast. Too loud. This was going to be a problem. A big problem. Because the way he looked at me? That wasn't brotherly. And the way I looked back? That wasn't sisterly either. We shared a last name now. Bonded by paperwork. Bonded by a wedding. But nothing about this felt legal. Or safe. Or right. CHAPTER 2 RULES WE BREAK Morning came too fast. Sunlight hit my face. I groaned into the pillow. New house. New problems. Downstairs smelled like coffee. And something burning. Probably Mom’s pancakes. She always tried too hard. I dragged myself down. Hair in a messy bun. Oversized sweater. Sweatpants. Didn't care who saw. Noah was already there. Sitting at the island. Laptop open. Earbuds in. Black t-shirt. Focused. He didn’t look up. Didn’t say good morning. Typical. "Morning," Mom chirped. Too loud for 8am. "Sleep well, sweetie?" "Fine," I muttered. Grabbed a mug. Noah finally glanced over. One second. That was it. Then back to his screen. I felt dismissed. And weirdly annoyed. "Classes start today," Mom said brightly. "Both of you at Crestford. Isn’t that exciting?" Noah snorted quietly. I pretended not to hear. Crestford was huge. 10,000 students. Easy to hide. And easy to run into him. "I’m leaving in ten," Noah said. Stood up. Didn’t look at me. "Don’t follow me." He walked out. Door shut behind him. Like a warning. Mom sighed. "He’s just stressed." "About finals," I lied. She bought it. I took my time. Shower. Makeup. Nothing fancy. Jeans. Crop top. Jacket. Needed armor today. Campus was a 15 minute walk. I took 20. Didn't want to see him. First class: Literature 101. Big lecture hall. 300 seats. All full. I found a spot in back. Laptop out. Notes ready. Door opened late. And there he was. Noah. With two friends. Both guys. Both tall. Both looked like trouble. He scanned the room. Eyes landed on me. Paused. Just for a second. Then sat three rows down. With his boys. Great. Front row to me. Back row to him. We were a triangle. Professor started talking. Shakespeare. Boring. I tried to focus. My pen kept drifting. To the back of his head. Dark hair. Wet from rain. He always looked damp. Halfway through class. A paper plane landed. On my desk. I unfolded it. Three words. His handwriting. "Stop staring at me." My face burned. I didn’t. I glanced down. Three rows ahead. He wasn’t looking back. Liars. Class ended. Crowd pushed out. I waited. Let him go first. Coward move. I know. But I wasn’t ready. Library next. Needed quiet. Needed to write. Chapter 2 of my story. The one about us. Without naming us. I found my corner. Same table as last night. Opened my doc. Typed one line. "Rule one: Don’t look." Footsteps again. Heavy. Familiar. I didn’t look up. "New rule," he said. Sitting across from me. "Don’t write about me." I snapped my laptop shut. "How do you know?" "Because I can tell." He leaned forward. "Your face gives you away." "And what’s my face saying?" "That you’re thinking." "About breaking rules." He smiled. Barely. Dangerous. "You talk too much," I said. Stood up. Grabbed my bag. "For someone who hates talking." He followed me out. Again. This was becoming a pattern. "We should set boundaries," I said. Outside. Rain started again. "Agreed," he replied. "What kind?" "No parties together." "Fine." "No late night talks." "Whatever." "No touching." He paused there. I did too. "Deal," we both said. At the same time. Awkward. We walked home. Silence again. But different this time. Heavier. At the house. Mom and his dad were out. Note on the fridge. "Dinner on your own. Love you!" Perfect. Alone. Noah went upstairs. I went to the kitchen. Made ramen. Simple. Fast. He came down 20 minutes later. In sweatpants now. Hair still wet. "Smells okay," he said. Highest compliment I’d get. He made his own. Sat at the other end. Of the long table. Six feet apart. Like we were strangers. TV was on. Background noise. Some reality show. Neither of us watched. "Why’d you move here?" He asked suddenly. I nearly dropped my fork. "Because my mom married your dad." "That’s not an answer." "Then ask better." He looked at me. Really looked. Gray eyes. Serious. "You seem angry." "At the world." "Or at me?" "Both," I admitted. He nodded. Like he got it. "Fair." We finished eating. In silence again. But less tense. Progress, maybe. Later that night. I couldn’t sleep. House was too quiet. My room faced the hall. His door was open. A c***k of light. I shouldn’t. But I did. Walked out. Bare feet on cold floor. He was in the kitchen. Again. Drinking water. In the dark. He turned. Saw me. Didn’t look surprised. "Can’t sleep either?" "Guess not," I whispered. We stood there. Three feet apart. The rule about no talking. We broke it. The rule about touching. We hadn’t yet. "You okay?" he asked. Soft. Unexpected. "Yeah. You?" "Same." The fridge hummed. Outside, rain hit windows. "Your mom’s nice," he said. "She tries." "My dad does too." "They’re happy." "Yeah." Another pause. Too long. "Go to bed," he said. "Before we break rule three." "What’s rule three?" He looked at my lips. Then away. "You know." I did. My heart raced. I nodded. Walked away. Back to my room. Closed the door. Pressed my back to it. Breathed. This was bad. This was so bad. Because the rules we made? We were already breaking them. And we only made them this morning. At 2am my phone buzzed. Unknown number. Text: "Stop thinking so loud. I can hear you." Noah. He had my number. Of course he did. I typed back: "Go to sleep." He replied: "Can’t. You’re in the hall." I froze. Checked my door. Crack of light still there. He was right. I was thinking too loud. Text from him again: "Rule four. No texting at 2am." I smiled in the dark. "Rule five. Don’t read my mind." No reply. But I heard his door close. Soft. Morning would be worse. We both knew it. CHAPTER 3 THE PARTY Friday came too fast. Campus was buzzing. Posters everywhere. "CRESTFORD WELCOME BASH" "9PM. OFF-CAMPUS MANSION." "NO PROFESSORS. NO RULES." I hated parties. Too loud. Too fake. But Mom insisted. "Go meet people, honey." "Make friends." I didn’t want friends. I wanted to write. And forget Noah. Speaking of Noah. He was gone all day. Classes. Gym. Whatever. Came home at 7. In black jeans. Black shirt. Wet hair. Smelled like cologne. He ignored me. Went straight upstairs. Door closed hard. Coward. 8:30pm. I was in my room. Staring at my laptop. Blank page. No words. My phone buzzed. Unknown number again. "Don't go to the party." Noah. I typed back. "Why? Your rule?" "Because it’s a mess." "Then stay home too." No reply. 10 minutes later. Heard his door open. Footsteps downstairs. Front door shut. He left. Without me. Fine. 9:15pm. I was bored. And mad. So I went. Uber dropped me off. The mansion was insane. Three floors. Lights everywhere. Music shaking the ground. People spilling out onto lawn. Red cups. Loud laughing. I pulled my jacket tighter. Felt out of place. Immediately. Inside was chaos. Bodies everywhere. Sweat. Perfume. Alcohol. Bass in my chest. "New girl!" someone yelled. Girls I didn't know. Grabbed my arm. Dragged me to a table. "Drink?" I took it. Vodka. Something sweet. Tasted like regret. First sip burned. Second sip didn’t. An hour passed. I lost track. Danced once. Talked to no one. Kept checking my phone. No messages from him. Liars. He said mess. But he came. Then I saw him. Across the room. Noah. Surrounded by people. Girls hanging on him. Laughing at his jokes. One girl on his arm. Blonde. Tight dress. Touching his chest. My stomach dropped. Rule 1: No parties together. He broke it. With her. I downed my drink. Grabbed another. Stupid. I know. The blonde leaned in. Whispered in his ear. He nodded. Smirked. Looked bored. Then his eyes found me. Across the crowd. Paused. His jaw ticked. Good. Feel it. I turned away. Pretended not to care. Walked to the balcony. Needed air. Cold hit my face. Rain again. Of course. Crestford and rain. Name a better duo. Footsteps behind me. Heavy. I didn’t turn. "I told you not to come." His voice. Low. Angry. "And I told you to stay home." I turned now. "Guess we both suck." He looked furious. Eyes darker than usual. Drunk? Maybe. Mad? Definitely. "Who are you with?" "No one." "That drink says otherwise." "That girl says otherwise." We stared. Chest to chest. Almost touching. But not. The door opened. His friends. Two guys. Loud. "Yo Noah. Come on." "Party's inside." "And who’s this?" Noah didn’t answer. Just grabbed my wrist. Pulled me inside. His grip was tight. Too tight. "Let go," I hissed. "Not here." We pushed through people. Up the stairs. To the second floor. Empty hallway. Bathroom. He shoved me in. Locked the door. "What the hell?" I snapped. Pulled away. "Are you drunk?" "A little," he admitted. "And angry." "At me?" "At you. At her. At this." He ran a hand through hair. Water dripped down his neck. "You shouldn’t be here." "You shouldn’t have left me." "I was protecting you." "From what?" He stepped closer. One foot between mine. "From me." "From this." He gestured between us. My heart hammered. "There is no this." "Liar," he whispered. "You looked at me." "Like you wanted to burn the house down." My breath caught. "And you looked back." "Like you wanted me to." Silence. Just breathing. And the music downstairs. Muffled now. His hand came up. Brushed hair from my face. I didn’t stop him. "Rule three," he murmured. "No touching." "I know." He did it anyway. Thumb on my cheek. Warm. Rough. "Say stop," he said. "And I will." I didn’t. Couldn’t. His eyes dropped. To my lips. Mine did too. To his. The door banged. Someone pounded. "Noah? You in there?" His friend. Again. "Party’s getting raided. Cops." Noah cursed. Dropped his hand. Like I burned him. "Move," he said. Voice rough. We slipped out. Hallway full of people. Panicking. Running. Someone screamed. Lights flashed outside. Red and blue. "Back door," Noah said. Grabbed my hand again. This time I didn’t pull away. We ran. Down the back stairs. Through the kitchen. Out into the rain. Cold. Wet. Fast. We didn’t stop running. Until we were blocks away. Behind some building. Gasping. He let go. Finally. We both leaned against brick. Soaking wet. Heartbeats too loud. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Yeah. You?" "Fine." Another silence. But this one was different. Lighter. And heavier. "You looked jealous," he said suddenly. I laughed. Bitter. "And you looked guilty." "Fair." He looked at me. Really looked. Rain in his eyelashes. "Come on," he said. "I’ll walk you home." We walked. No talking. Just our footsteps. And rain. At the house. Everyone was asleep. We crept in. Drenched. Upstairs. Outside my door. He stopped. "About earlier," he started. "Don’t," I said quickly. "Okay." He nodded. Turned to his room. Paused. "For what it’s worth." "I wasn’t with her." "I know," I lied. He went inside. Door closed. I went to mine. Sat on the floor. Shaking. Rule 1: Broken. Rule 3: Broken. Rule 4: About to break. My phone buzzed. Him: "Sleep." Me: "Can’t." Him: "Because of me?" Me: "Because of us." No reply for 5 minutes. Then: "Then let’s stop pretending there isn’t an us." My chest exploded. I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. But I didn’t sleep. Not that night. Because the party ended. But whatever started between us? That was just beginning. And it was going to burn everything down. CHAPTER 4 AFTERMATH POV: NOAH I don't do parties. Hate the noise. Hate the people. Hate pretending I'm fine. But I went anyway. Because she went. Because I couldn't stop thinking. About her in that sweater. At the library. At 2am. Stupid. The mansion was packed. Bass in my teeth. Girls everywhere. Touching. Laughing. Drinking. I ignored them all. Except her. I saw her come in. Late. Wet hair. Oversized jacket. Jeans. She looked pissed. Good. She didn't see me. At first. Then she did. And her face changed. Jealousy. I liked it. Hated that I liked it. The blonde was there. Maya. Ex. Clingy. Loud. She grabbed my arm. "Did you miss me?" No. But I didn't say it. Because Aria was watching. From across the room. Drink in hand. Eyes on me. On Maya's hand. I felt something. Satisfaction. Guilt. Both. I pulled away from Maya. Walked outside. Needed air. Then she followed. Of course she followed. We fight better in private. The bathroom. Bad idea. Worst idea. Her. Me. Locked door. Rain on the windows. Her lips. So close. "Say stop," I told her. She didn't. I almost kissed her. God I almost did. Then the banging. Cops. We ran. Her hand in mine. Small. Cold. Perfect. We made it out. Behind that building. Breathing hard. Soaking wet. Staring at each other. Like we did something wrong. We did. Now it’s Saturday morning. 8am. House is quiet. Too quiet. I’m in the kitchen. Coffee. Black. Bitter. Like my mood. Footsteps. She's up. I don't look. Hear her pour water. Hear her sit. Far end of table. Like yesterday. "Morning," she mumbles. "Morning," I reply. Neutral. Safe. We eat in silence. Toast. Eggs. Nothing special. But my hands shake. She notices. I know she notices. "About last night," she starts. "Don't," I cut her off. "We need to talk about it." "No. We don't." "Yes we do." I slam my mug down. Too hard. Coffee spills. "Fine. Talk." She flinches. I hate that. "Did you mean it?" "What?" "The text. About us." "Which part?" "That there is an us." I stand up. Pace to the window. Rain again. Always rain. "I was drunk," I lie. "And angry." "And stupid." "Okay," she says quietly. Too quietly. I turn. She's not looking at me. Staring at her plate. Like it betrayed her. Something in my chest twists. "Hey," I say. She doesn't answer. "Aria. Look at me." She does. Eyes red. Not crying. But close. "Don't do that," I say. "Do what?" "Pretend it didn't matter." "It didn't," she lies. Bad liar. Worse than me. I cross the room. Stop in front of her chair. She tilts her head up. We’re close again. Too close. "It mattered," I admit. "To me." "Then why run?" "Because I'm scared." "Of what?" "Of this. Of you. Of me." She laughs. Bitter. "Join the club." My phone buzzes. Group chat. Campus is on fire. Literally and figuratively. MESSAGES: "Did you see Noah with new girl?" "At the party? In bathroom?" "Bro she's his stepsister??" "WHAT" "i****t??" "Pics or it didn't happen" My blood goes cold. "Give me your phone," I say. She does. Shaking. I check hers too. Same s**t. Different group. Someone saw us. Someone filmed. Probably. Crestford loves drama. "We have to fix this," I say. Voice low. "How?" "Deny it. Say we're just siblings." "And the hand holding?" "Escaping the cops." "And the bathroom?" "We were talking." "About rules." She nods. Slow. "They won't believe us," she whispers. "They will if we sell it." "How?" "By acting normal." "Can we?" I don't know. Noon. We have to go out. Groceries. Mom asked. Can't hide forever. The store is hell. People stare. Whisper. Point. "That's him." "That's her." "Stepbrother and stepsister." "The ones from the party." I keep my face blank. Aria does too. We grab milk. Bread. Eggs. Like a normal family. At checkout. Cashier is a girl from class. She smirks. "Find everything okay?" "Yes," I say. "Great. You two are so cute." The word cuts. Aria pays. Fast. We leave. In the car. Silence again. "That was awful," she says. "I know." "What if Mom sees?" "She won't." "But Dad?" "I'll talk to him." We get home. Drop bags. Go to our rooms. Door closed. I can't focus. Can't write code. Can't breathe. My phone won't stop. Notifications. Nonstop. I throw it. Across the room. It hits the wall. Screen cracks. Perfect. 3pm. Knock on my door. Her. "Aria." "We need a plan." "Come in." She sits on my bed. I sit on the floor. Distance. Safe. "Okay," she says. "Rules. New rules." "Rule 1: No touching in public." "Rule 2: No looking at each other in class." "Rule 3: No texts after midnight." "Rule 4: If someone asks, we're just family." "Rule 5:" She stops. "Rule 5?" "Don't fall for each other." The room goes quiet. "Too late for that," I say. Her eyes snap to mine. "Don't." "What?" "Say things like that." "Why?" "Because I can't handle it." I lean forward. Elbows on knees. "Then what do you want me to do?" "I don't know." "Neither do I." We sit there. Stuck. In this house. With this last name. With these feelings. 7pm. Dinner. Mom and Dad are home. Smiling. Happy. Clueless. "How was everyone's day?" Mom asks. "Fine," we both say. At the same time. She beams. "You're bonding!" I almost choke. Aria kicks me under table. I kick back. Accidentally. Our feet touch. We both freeze. Dad clears his throat. "Noah. Heard about the party." My stomach drops. "What about it?" "Cops showed up." "Yeah. Not my fault." "I know. Just be careful." "Okay." Aria doesn't breathe. The whole meal. I watch her from corner of eye. She doesn't eat much. Pushes food around. After dinner. We escape. To the library. Again. Our spot. She opens her laptop. I open mine. We don't talk. For an hour. Then her phone buzzes. Mine too. Same message. From an unknown number. "PICS OF YOU TWO DROPPED. CHECK THE CONFESSIONS PAGE. 24 HOURS." We look at each other. Panic. Real panic. I pull it up. Crestford Confessions. Anonymous post. 2 photos. One: Me holding her hand. Running from the party. Two: Bathroom door. Us. Timestamp. Last night. Caption: "Noah Vance and his stepsister. Thoughts?" 300 comments. In 10 minutes. I close it. She's crying now. Silent tears. "Hey," I say. "Don't." "How can you say don't?" "This is bad." "I know." "What do we do?" I have no answer. None. I move. Sit next to her. On the same chair. Our shoulders touch. Neither of us moves away. "I'm sorry," I say. "For what?" "For dragging you into this." "You didn't drag me." "I did." "Noah." "Aria." She turns. Looks at me. Really looks. "I'm tired of hiding." "Me too." "Then what?" "Then we stop." "What does that mean?" "It means we tell the truth." "Which is?" "That I like you." "That this is real." "That I don't care who knows." She stares. "Are you serious?" "Dead serious." "What about Mom? Dad?" "We'll deal with it." "What about school?" "We'll deal with that too." I reach out. Take her hand. On the table. In public. Where anyone can see. She doesn't pull away. "Rule 5 is broken," she whispers. "I know." "Good." We sit like that. Hands linked. While the world burns outside. Someone walks past. Sees us. Stops. Stares. Keeps walking. Let them. 10pm. Back home. We tell Mom and Dad. Together. In the living room. It goes badly. At first. Shouting. Crying. "That's not right." "You're family." "We're not blood related." Hours later. They're quiet. Not happy. But listening. Dad: "You have to be careful." Mom: "People will talk." Us: "We know." Upstairs. Outside my door. She stops me. "Thank you," she says. "For what?" "For choosing me." I cup her face. Thumb on her cheek. Like in the bathroom. But no one is banging now. "Always," I say. And I kiss her. Soft. Real. Terrifying. She kisses back. And the world doesn't end. It just starts. We pull apart. Breathing hard. "Rule 5 is officially dead," she says with a shaky laugh. "Good," I reply. "Now let's break all the others." She smiles. First real smile in days. "Deal." We go to our rooms. Separate. But not really. My phone buzzes. Her: "Come here." Me: "Your room or mine?" Her: "Doesn't matter. As long as it's together." I go. Door closes behind me. Tomorrow will be hell. Rumors. Stares. Consequences. But tonight? Tonight we have this. And for the first time. The last name doesn't feel like a cage. It feels like a promise. CHAPTER 5 TOGETHER IN THE DARK POV: ARIA His room smells like him. Rain. Cedar. Coffee. And something dangerous. Something mine now. "Come in," he said. I did. Door closed soft. Like a secret. We didn't talk. Not at first. Just looked at each other. In the dark. Only his desk lamp on. Warm light. Small room. "Are you scared?" he asked. "Yes," I admitted. "Of what?" "Of tomorrow. Of this." "Me too," he said. Then he moved. Sat on the edge of bed. Patted the spot next to him. I sat. Careful. Shaking. Our shoulders touched. Electric. "Can I hold your hand?" he whispered. Like he needed permission. Like I was fragile. "Yes," I whispered back. His fingers found mine. Interlaced. Tight. Safe. "Better?" he asked. "Better," I said. We stayed like that. 10 minutes. Maybe more. Just breathing. Listening to rain on roof. "I've wanted to do that," he said suddenly. "Since the library." "Me too," I laughed. Quiet. Nervous. He turned to me. Gray eyes serious. "No more running?" "No more running." "Promise?" "Promise." He leaned in. Slow. Giving me time. I didn't move away. His lips touched mine. Soft. Uncertain. Real. It wasn't like the bathroom. That was panic. This was choice. This was us. We pulled back. Both smiling. Dumb. Shaky smiles. "That was..." he started. "Yeah," I finished. "Yeah." My phone buzzed. Him. On my lap. "Your room or mine tonight?" "Both," I typed. "Greedy," he replied. "With you? Always." We laughed. Actually laughed. In the middle of chaos. It felt illegal. Midnight. We were still talking. Whispers. Secrets. About childhood. About books. About stupid things. He told me about his dad. How he works too much. How Noah raised himself. I told him about my mom. How she cries when stressed. How I became the strong one. We fit. Broken pieces. Making one whole. 2am. I yawned. He noticed. "You should sleep." "In here?" "If you want." I wanted. So bad. But also scared. "Just sleep," he said. "Nothing else. I promise." I nodded. He moved over. Made space. I lay down. He lay next to me. On top of the covers. Proper. Safe. His arm went around me. Careful. Light. "Comfortable?" he murmured. "Yeah." "Good. Sleep." I did. For the first time in weeks. Without nightmares. Without overthinking. Just him. Warm. Steady. --- Morning came fast. Sunlight through blinds. Stripes on his face. He was awake. Watching me. "Morning," he whispered. "Morning," I whispered back. We didn't move. Didn't want to. "Did you sleep okay?" "Best sleep ever." "Same." Knock on door. Mom. "Aria? Breakfast?" "Be down soon!" I called. Noah squeezed my hand. "Go. Before they suspect." I kissed his cheek. Fast. Impulsive. Ran out. Face burning. Breakfast was normal. Too normal. Mom made waffles. Dad read the paper. Noah came down 5 minutes later. Hair wet. Hoodie on. Didn't look at me. Good. We were acting. But under the table. His foot found mine. Pressed. I almost dropped my fork. After breakfast. We left together. For class. Like we planned. Campus was different. People stared. Whispered. "That's them." "The confession post." "Are they together?" We kept our heads high. Hand in hand. In public. Rule 4 was dead too. First class. We sat together. Back row. He passed me notes. On paper. Old school. Note 1: "You're beautiful today." Note 2: "Ignore them." Note 3: "Lunch with me?" I wrote back. "Yes. Please." Lunch. We found a quiet spot. Under a tree. Rain had stopped. Ground was wet. He brought two sandwiches. Mine had turkey. The way I like. "How'd you know?" I asked. "I pay attention," he said. We ate. Talked. Laughed. It felt easy. Like we'd done this forever. Then Maya showed up. The blonde from the party. With three friends. "Well well," she said. "Look who it is." Noah stood up. Instantly. Protective. "What do you want?" "Just talking," she smiled. Fake. Sharp. "To the girl who stole you." "I didn't steal anyone," I said. Stood too. "Yes you did." "No. He chose me." Noah took my hand. "And I'd choose her again." Loud. Clear. For everyone to hear. Maya's face fell. "Whatever," she spat. Walked away. Her friends followed. I exhaled. Didn't realize I was holding breath. "You okay?" he asked. "Yeah. You?" "Better now." We went back to eating. Like nothing happened. But my heart was pounding. From him. From that. Afternoon classes. Were a blur. All I could think about. Was going home. To him. 5pm. We walked home. Slow. Hands linked. Not hiding anymore. At the house. Mom and Dad were out. Note on fridge. "Dinner at 8. Be home." We looked at each other. And grinned. Like kids. Upstairs. My room. We collapsed on my bed. Exhausted. Happy. "I like this," he said. "Lying here with you?" "Yeah. Normal stuff." "Me too." He rolled over. On his side. Facing me. "Can I ask you something?" "Anything." "Why me?" "Why you what?" "Why did you look at me. That first night. Like that." I bit my lip. "Because you looked sad." "Even when you were mad." "And I wanted to fix it." "Stupid reason." "Best reason," he said. He reached out. Tucked hair behind my ear. Fingers lingered. On my cheek. On my jaw. "You're so brave," he whispered. "I'm terrified." "Me too. But with you. It's less scary." I kissed him. First. No thinking. Just did it. He kissed back. Deeper this time. Hand in my hair. Gentle. Anchoring. We broke apart. Breathing. "Stay?" he asked. "For dinner?" "For everything." "Okay," I said. 7:30pm. We were in the kitchen. Cooking together. Pasta. Sauce. Chaos. Flour on his nose. I pointed. He wiped it off. On my shirt. We were terrible cooks. But we were laughing. So much laughing. Dinner with parents. Was awkward. But okay. They asked questions. We answered carefully. "Taking it slow." "Being respectful." "Being careful."