Noah
He shows up at my door ten minutes later, hair a mess, sweatpants and an old T-shirt, looking about as tired and unguarded as I've ever seen him. I let him in without a word, and we end up back at the kitchen table, both of us too keyed up to sit properly, both of us circling the actual conversation before either of us commits to having it.
"You've been avoiding me," I say, because someone has to start it, and clearly he's not going to.
"I know."
"Why?"
He rubs a hand over his face, exhausted in a way that goes deeper than just the late hour. "Because being around you makes it harder to keep pretending the kiss didn't mean anything. And I don't know what to do with that."
Something in my chest loosens at the honesty, even as it also makes everything more complicated. "So the avo
