By Monday morning, everything had changed — except the part where no one was allowed to know.
Noah and Nick didn't speak of the kiss. Not in words. But their silence was heavier than anything they could've said out loud. Every look was fire. Every brush of skin a loaded gun.
She woke up aching. Not just between her legs — though that too — but in her chest. Because when you touch someone you're not supposed to want, the guilt doesn't just stain your hands. It stains your whole soul.
---
School was a new kind of hell.
They were in the same building now — Nick and Noah — and the hallway was suddenly smaller. She walked past people who didn't know that the boy with the bruised knuckles and sharp tongue had kissed her like he owned her.
And then there was Daniella — Nick's occasional mistake. Long legs. Glossy lips. A flirtation he used like a weapon.
She was leaning against his locker when Noah passed.
> "So that's the new stepsister," Daniella said loudly. "Looks like trouble in dirty boots."
Noah smirked. "At least I'm not trying to suck his face off in public."
Nick froze mid-turn. Their eyes met.
Daniella's face hardened. "Jealousy doesn't look good on you, babe."
> "Neither does desperation," Noah shot back.
Nick grabbed Noah's arm, dragging her around the corner.
> "What the hell are you doing?" he hissed.
> "Existing in your toxic little universe," she snapped.
> "You want the whole school to know?"
> "Maybe I do. Maybe I'm tired of pretending I'm not walking around smelling like you."
That shut him up.
His hand was still on her wrist.
> "You can't say things like that," he said softly.
> "Then stop making them true."
She yanked her arm away and walked off before the anger in her chest turned into tears.
---
The day spiraled from there.
Nick got into a fight at lunch. Ron said it was about money. Someone else said it was over Daniella. Noah didn't care — except she did. Because when she saw Nick get shoved against a locker, blood on his mouth, and fury in his eyes, something inside her cracked.
He fought back like he was born to bleed.
He didn't lose.
But he didn't win clean either.
---
That night, she found him in the garage again. Always the garage. Always under the hum of a single light and the hood of his red Mustang like it was a shield.
His knuckles were split. Again.
> "You can't keep doing this," she said, stepping into the oil-slicked air.
> "I'm fine," he muttered.
> "You're bleeding."
> "It's mine to bleed."
> "Not when I'm the one who has to feel it."
He looked up.
Something in his eyes softened — just for a second.
> "I don't want to hurt you," he said.
> "Then stop kissing me like you're going to set me on fire."
> "I already have."
---
They stood close — too close.
Her fingers touched his wrist. Gently. She hated how natural it felt. How right. Her thumb brushed over the dried blood. His breath hitched.
> "You're scared," she said.
> "Of what?"
> "That this isn't just lust."
> "It's not," he said.
Her heart skipped.
> "Then what is it?"
> "A mistake I'd make again."
---
He kissed her. Again.
This time slower. Deeper. Like apology and sin rolled into one.
She didn't stop him. Her hands curled into his hair. Their bodies pressed together — all heat and desperation and everything they couldn't say out loud. His lips moved from her mouth to her neck, then lower, where her hoodie slipped just enough to expose the skin over her heart.
> "You're not just under my skin," he whispered. "You're in my goddamn bones."
She swallowed hard. "Then why are you still running from me?"
> "Because once I give in," he growled, "I won't be able to stop."
> "Then don't."
---
He pulled back, breathing hard.
> "Not here. Not now. Not like this."
Noah stared at him. At the way his hands shook — not from fear, but restraint. The kind of restraint that came with wanting something you knew could ruin everything.
And she realized…
He wasn't scared of her.
He was scared of how much he needed her.