Chapter Thirty

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B E L L A M Y

That following week, Noah barely talked to me. He would be gone at first light, and only come home after dinner, heading straight to bed.

At one point, I came home from work into an empty house, and all I wanted to do that night was lay my head on Noah's chest while he brushed his fingers through my hair.

But since he wouldn't even look at me, I highly doubted that I would be able to do that.

I dropped my bag next to the table and kicked off my shoes, looking up when I heard something upstairs.

Noah was home?

Determined to get him to talk to me, I walked up the stairs, taking deep breaths as I raised my hand to knock on his door.

I hesitated, but my feelings for him urged me to knock.

"Yes," Noah said from inside, and I opened the door, not sure what to expect. Would he be angry? Sad? Annoyed?

He sat on the edge of his bed, his back facing me. Even from this angle, I could tell he was on edge, the muscles in his back constantly making his shirt move, and his head went from side to side to crack his neck.

"Noah?" I whispered, and his shoulders dropped.

I closed the door behind me, walking around the bed to sit next to him.

"What are you doing here, Bellamy?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the floor.

I decided to just get straight to the point, voicing my concerns and insecurities.

"You've been avoiding me," I stated, picking at my nails as I stared at them, somehow nervous about what to expect.

Was he done with me? Did he regret telling his story?

He sighed, finally looking up. "I just..."

I waited for him to continue, but he didn't. Instead, his eyes went back to the floor and my mind to overthinking.

"Do you..." I said softly, gathering some courage to go on. "Do you not want to do this anymore?"

I moved a finger between us, and Noah's head snapped up to mine, his eyes wide. "What?"

If I didn't notice the panic in him, I would be disappointed, but it gave me a different feeling. Hope.

"Bellamy," he spoke, turning his entire body to me and grabbing my hands.

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and my cheeks heated up under his gaze. The effect he had on me was insane, and something I never felt in my life. Nor knew existed.

"You still want me?" he questioned, and I frowned. Wait, he thought I didn't want to have anything to do with him after he told me his story?

My heart broke, and I wondered if others had given him this feeling. Or straight-up told him so.

"I—" Before I could properly form a sentence, I jumped up, holding a hand under my nose as blood streamed down my face.

"Oh my god," Noah exclaimed, quickly standing and running to the bathroom.

I followed him, trying not to chuckle as a pool of blood settled in my hand. Why the fuck did I find this so funny?

Noah handed me some toilet paper, and I rolled it up before pressing it against my nose.

"If you didn't want to answer the question you could've just told me," Noah joked, a smile playing on his lips as he gave me more toilet paper.

I rolled my eyes, checking if my nose had stopped bleeding yet.

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