Maybe it’s an excuse to be where you guys are.

I might not have been joking about that. College brochures and course catalogs sit on the kitchen table right now, because as soon as I sat down earlier with my laptop to try to go online to fill out applications, I suddenly needed air. Every university takes me away from here.

“It’s not personal, you know?” Noah says.

I look up at him.

“Kaleb,” he clarifies.

I drop my eyes, focusing back on my work. I find that hard to believe. Does he spit in most people’s hair? Noah doesn’t know everything.

Tossing the cloth back in the can, I walk to the basin and wash my hands. Noah crouches down to lie on his back, sliding under the bike again.

“Don’t you want to know what happened to him?” he asks.

“If he wants to tell me.”

I actually am interested, but my pride won’t allow me to show it.

I whip my hands, flinging the excess water before turning off the faucet.

“He’s like our father.” Noah twists a wrench, looking up at his work. “They don’t trust women. Until you, anyway.”

Trust me how? And wanna bet it was one woman who ruined it for all of us? How original. And not at all silly.

Noah tosses his tool, and I see the black all over his fingers. “Hand me that wrench with the yellow tape on it, would you?”

I head over to his worktable and grab the long silver tool with a black handle and yellow tape. Walking over to him, I drop down and slide under the bike with him.

“And you?” I ask, handing him the wrench. “Do you trust me?”

He uses the tool, tightening or loosening something, not making eye contact. I’m still not sure what that means, though. Trust me to have their backs? Not hurt them? Be faithful? Never abandon them?

He’s silent for a few more moments, and the seconds start to stretch as the dread inside me churns.

“I heard you last night,” he says in almost a whisper.

Heard me…

His tight lips purse as he tightens the bolt. “Daddy didn’t love you, so you let mine fuck you so he will.”

I stare hard at him as he works, and even though his anger rocks me, because this is Noah and Noah is always my friend, his words don’t necessarily hurt. He needs to say something.

He goes on. “Maybe you’ve done without for so long, you’re confused that sex means love.”

He hands me the wrench, and I take it.

“Maybe you’ll do anything to make sure he never forgets you exist,” he nearly whispers. “Even if it means spreading your pretty legs.”

The jaw of his smooth, tanned face flexes, and he still won’t meet my eyes, but even though his sharp words try to cut, I’m not mad.

He frowns, and I can tell the wheels are turning in his head.

“Or maybe…” he says. “Maybe you’re like me, and you’ll do anything to feel good.” He finally turns his eyes to look at me. “Even if it means never remembering their last names.”

I hold his gaze, both of us lying on our backs and Jake and Kaleb somewhere in the house.

The flecks of green in his blue eyes darken, and I’m almost at ease until I see his stare harden on me.

“I wanted to be in there with you,” he whispers.

The dark space under the bike hides us from the door, and I don’t run away, because I’m not scared of Noah.

And I am scared of him. I like that he talks to me.

But sometimes I’m afraid of it, too.

“They don’t talk to me, either,” he murmurs. “I was going to make love to you, you know?”

My gaze falters. He says it like he’s never done it before.

“I was going to make love to you,” he repeats.

And I finally get it.

Not screw. Not fuck.

He was going to make it matter.

His chest rises and falls, and even though I know I have a warm bed inside filled with a man who holds me so tight and will never not care for me, I…

I want to see Noah.

I want to hear him.

“Talk to me,” he says.

“What do you want me to say?”

He hesitates, his baseball cap sitting backward on his head as I watch his lips softly start to move.

“Did you like watching me on the couch the other night?” he asks in a low voice.

I search his eyes, fear holding me back but desire keeping me planted.

“How far would we have gone if he hadn’t come in?” he presses.

I breathe in and out, holding his eyes, and all of a sudden we’re back on the couch. The space is small, the air is thick, something is happening, and we don’t know what or if we should, but we know we don’t want to stop yet.

He reaches down, but I don’t look to see what he’s doing. Instead, I hear his belt buckle jingle, and his zipper open. His eyes search mine, probably wondering if I’m going to flee. Or waiting for me to flee.

But I don’t. Not as he reaches inside his jeans and not as I watch him stroke himself out of the corner of my eye.

“How far?” he urges.

How far was I going to let him and Kaleb go that night? Would I have let them take turns? Or would we have gone to a bed and would I have let them have me at the same time? We’ll never know, but I do know one thing.

“I wasn’t going to stop,” I tell him. I turn on my side, tucking my hands under my cheek as I look over at him. “I just wanted to let go and have the moment. Even if you were using me to feel good, because I wanted to feel good, too.”

He nods slowly. “Sucks, doesn’t it?” A beautiful smile plays across his lips. “Craving that fucking escape so badly, because someone else left you empty?”

I move in, placing my hand on his chest as my nose brushes his cheek. “Nothing about you is empty,” I whisper. “I can feel your heart.”

It beats against my hand, and I close my eyes, feeling his warm body move and thinking about what he would feel like. How he would’ve felt that night we were interrupted.

It wasn’t just an escape, Noah. It wasn’t. It was a connection.

A connection I feel with him probably stronger than anyone here. No one loved him enough. Jake’s respect has been too hard to earn, and Kaleb doesn’t talk to him. Like me, Noah doesn’t have a place he belongs. He gets everything I’m feeling, he sees what I see, and he knows what I walk around with, because even though he’s not alone, he’s lonely. He didn’t have anyone to talk to here, and just like my parents’ house wasn’t a home, neither is the peak for him. He doesn’t feel good here.

Until maybe now.

He quickens his pace, and I open my eyes, looking down at his hand, moving inside his jeans. My clit throbs despite myself, and the warmth between my legs aches.

“Noah…” I breathe out, begging him. “Go slower. I like watching you. I like it slow.”

He turns his face toward me, our lips brushing each other. “Tiernan…”

I lick my lips. “Take your pants down more.”

He bends his knees up and pushes his jeans and boxers down.

He pulls out his cock, thick and hard, and I watch him rub his thumb over the wet tip and continue stroking it. I know he’s watching me as I watch him, but I don’t care.