38 | blake

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"I don't know what to tell her," I admit, taking a seat on the bench in front of me, frowning slightly

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"I don't know what to tell her," I admit, taking a seat on the bench in front of me, frowning slightly.

"Tell her what you want to tell her," Noah says simply, glancing over at me from where he stands a few feet away, tinkering under the hood of his father's old Ford. I don't miss the way his expression softens as his eyes land on me, the action making my heart race and curling my lips upwards into a faint smile.

It still amazes me how much Noah has changed in the few months since I first met him. A while back ago, he was dark and moody and had a thing for sarcasm. Now, it's easy to see that they boy he was before was merely an act designed to keep people from getting too close. Underneath his rough exterior lies a boy with a heart of gold whom I trust more than anyone.

"I want to tell her the truth." I'm talking about the newfound relationship I've formed with Noah, and how I should tell Jess about us. I don't know what she's going to think—or say—and this makes me nervous. "I just don't know how she's going to take it."

I'd like to say that Jess and Noah have become close, and I know that she likes him. She even knows I've been crushing on him. However, when I tell her that I'm now dating Noah, I don't want to make her feel as if she is some unwanted third wheel.

I watch with amusement as Noah leans forward, confusion etched into his features as he studies the parts beneath the hood of the Ford. He frowns, tapping the wrench in his hand against the siding of the vehicle. Seconds later, a spurt of black liquid sprays Noah's white shirt. I purse my lips to contain my laughter as Noah curses beneath his breath, dropping his wrench before pulling off his shirt.

"Jess is your best friend," Noah responds to me, as if the ordeal that just took place didn't happen. "I don't see why she would be anything but happy for you. Besides, I'm going back to school tomorrow. She's going to find out regardless."

"I know. I guess I just don't want to overwhelm her."

"What? You want to keep me a secret, sweetheart?" Noah teases, joining my side before running the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip, touch igniting welcoming flames on my skin.

"No," I remark, smiling against his touch. Noah's own smile is easy and genuine as his eyes meet mine. When we first met, he hardly smiled at all. Now, his smiles are frequent.

"Good," Noah muses, taking my hand in his and interlacing our fingers. "Because if we were a secret"—he says, leaning in close to me—"then we wouldn't be able to do this." He kisses me, lips warm and inviting against my own. It doesn't seem to matter how many times we kiss, each feels like the first all over again.

All too soon, Noah pulls away and returns to the task he'd been fixated on moments earlier: the Ford. I bite my lower lip absentmindedly as I lift my legs onto the bench, hugging my knees to my chest.

"Have you told anyone yet?" I ask.

"Told anyone what?" Noah questions.

"That we're, you know. Together."

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