IF GOODBYES WERE THAT SIMPLE

AFTERMATH

​The heat radiating off Noah was a living, suffocating thing.

​I couldn't move. My lungs simply refused to expand, trapping the oxygen in my chest as his words settled into the quiet air between us. His scent-dark vanilla, cold rain, and something sharp and distinctly male-wrapped around my senses like a velvet cage.

​I was completely paralyzed. In all my nineteen years, no boy had ever invaded my personal space with such blatant, arrogant entitlement. My heart was hammering so violently against my ribcage that I was terrified he could hear it over the quiet hum of the library's air conditioning.

​"Noah, come on, man," his friend's voice called out from further down the aisle, completely oblivious to the sudden, suffocating atmosphere at our table. "We're gonna be late for the meeting."

​Noah didn't flinch. He didn't even break eye contact with me. Those storm-gray eyes remained locked onto mine, tracking every single flicker of panic, every shallow rise and fall of my chest, and the stubborn red blush that had spread all the way to the tips of my ears. A dark, dangerous glint of satisfaction danced in his gaze, as if he found my absolute terror amusing.

​"Give me a minute," Noah said, his deep, raspy voice never leaving my face.

​Slowly, deliberately, he straightened up to his full height. He took half a step back, breaking the invisible magnetic field that had held me hostage, but the weight of his presence still dominated the entire wooden table. He reached out, his long fingers casually flicking the corner of my leather-bound binder.

​"See you around, sweet cheeks," he murmured softly.

​He turned on his heel and walked away, his heavy black leather jacket swinging casually over his shoulder. I watched, numb and wide-eyed, as he joined his friend at the end of the aisle. They pushed through the heavy wooden doors, leaving a trail of stunned silence in their wake.

​The moment the doors swung shut, the air rushed back into my lungs. I let out a sharp, ragged gasp, dropping my pen onto my open notebook. My fingers were trembling so violently that the black ink smeared across my clean, structured notes, leaving a ugly, jagged streak across the paper.

​"Maribel."

​Chloe's voice was a harsh, breathless whisper. She was staring at me from across the table, her phone completely forgotten on her lap, her blue eyes as wide as saucers.

​"What... what was that?"

​"I don't know," I whispered back, my voice shaking so hard it barely sounded like my own. I reached up with a clammy hand, frantically pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose, trying to ground myself. "I really don't know."

​"Noah Williams just spoke to you," Chloe said, leaning over the table, her knuckles turning white against the polished wood. "Noah Williams-who literally ignores everyone unless they own a yacht or a corporate empire-just walked up to your table, invaded your personal space, and called you sweet cheeks."

​"He was just being mean, Chloe," I stammered, frantically packing my pencil case with trembling hands. The neatness I usually took so much pride in was completely gone; I was just shoving highlighters into my bag at random. "He wanted the table. He was trying to intimidate me because he thinks he owns this whole campus."

​"Intimidate you?" Chloe let out a breathless, incredulous laugh. "Maribel, I've seen Noah intimidate people. He glares at guys until they leave the room. He didn't glare at you. He was... he was looking at you like you were some kind of puzzle he couldn't figure out."

​"I don't want to be a puzzle," I said firmly, though my cheeks burned hotter at the memory of his breath against my ear. "I just want to study. We're leaving."

​I zipped up my canvas bag with a sharp drag, slung it over my shoulder, and practically fled the library before Chloe even had time to gather her things.

​The rest of the afternoon passed in a disorienting, surreal blur.

​By the time evening settled over the campus, the autumn chill had deepened, painting the sky in heavy shades of bruised purple and dark orange. The heavy rain that had been threatening all day finally began to fall, tapping rhythmically against the glass of our small dormitory window.

​Our dorm room was cozy, crammed with soft string lights, towering stacks of classical literature, and the soothing scent of my electric vanilla diffuser. Normally, this room was my sanctuary-the one place where the chaotic, loud world couldn't reach me.

​Tonight, however, I couldn't rest.

​I sat at my small wooden desk, wrapped in an oversized knit sweater, staring blankly at the open textbook in front of me. For three hours, I had been trying to read the same single page on European history. Every time I tried to digest the words, my brain traitorously replayed the exact tone of Noah's voice.

​You're in my spot.

​I like this one.

​I slammed the textbook shut with a heavy thud, burying my face in my hands.

​"Get a grip, Maribel," I muttered into my palms.

​It was ridiculous. I was letting a silly, arrogant boy ruin my evening. He was just a spoiled rich heir who was used to playing mind games with people. He probably didn't even remember my face by now. He was probably at some loud, expensive house party downtown, surrounded by beautiful girls who actually knew how to talk to guys like him, completely oblivious to the quiet girl he had flustered in the library.

​A soft knock at the open dorm door broke my spiral.

​"Hey, sleeping beauty," Chloe said, leaning against the doorframe in a sparkly party dress, adjusting her earrings. "A few of us are heading over to the Sigma house for a mixer. You sure you don't want to come? It might help clear your head."

​"No, thank you," I said softly, giving her a small, reassuring smile. "I have a lot of reading to catch up on. Have fun, please be careful."

​"Always am," Chloe winked, grabbing her clutch. "Don't stay up too late overthinking the bad boy!"

​Once the sound of her heels faded down the hallway, absolute silence fell over the room once more, save for the patter of rain against the glass.

​I let out a long breath and stood up, walking over to the full-length mirror hanging on the back of my closet door.

​In the soft, golden light of the string lights, my reflection looked small, fragile, and overwhelmingly plain. I pulled off my round glasses, setting them on the nightstand, and examined my face. My dark eyes looked too large for my small frame, my messy brown hair was tied up in a loose, hasty bun, and my lips were slightly bitten from my anxious chewing all evening.

​I was the definition of ordinary. I wore oversized sweaters to hide, I read books to escape, and I hid behind color-coded notes because real life was too unpredictable.

​Why did he look at me like that?

​The question hung in the air, dark and persistent. A girl like me didn't belong in Noah Williams' world. In his world, people were sharp, polished, wealthy, and ruthless. In my world, kindness mattered, quiet was safe, and love was something reserved for poetical verses written centuries ago.

​I reached out, my fingers lightly touching the cold glass of the mirror, tracing the outline of my own reflection. A cold knot of apprehension tightened deep in my stomach.

This was bad.