I can’t seem to get it together.
On the one hand, I know what I should do—distance myself from Noah, give up the chance of being his friend, of sharing more kisses when there’s two weeks left of being around him before he leaves me behind.
On the other hand, it’s been so long since I didn’t feel like a boring loser who didn’t measure up with my boyfriend-at-the-time.
Noah’s never made me feel that way. Not once.
There’s times where I’m sure Noah wants to kiss me—I catch him paying too much attention to my mouth, when I’ve been distracted by his. And there’s moments where we seem to both gravitate to that back corner that now has my reading chair set up where we tend to meet up for kisses in between the rest of the workday.
“We should go out somewhere,” Noah proposes. “Out of the stor
