There’s probably a whole series of stories that were built around kisses, on would-be kisses, on what they could mean.
Yeah, well, this isn’t that kind of story, right? He’s leaving soon, we know that, we know that he doesn’t want to stay here, we know that!
Hours pass until it’s finally lunch time, and lunch time would mean Noah and me sharing a meal, but the closer the clock ticks over to noon, the more and more I get anxious and can’t concentrate on my own work.
Which of course, is not going according to plan.
I stress-check my email inbox, waiting for the email from Mrs. Bristol that’s finally going to give me the go-ahead to get most of the renovations and repairs done, but no matter how long I keep refreshing the page, nothing comes through. I know Noah’s been talking with his a
