WHEN I FINALLY SEE NOEL, I try to ignore the way my breath hitches in the back of my throat.

It's the closest I've seen him all night, close enough that my senses are seduced by the hints of fresh mint and sharp citrus that are agonizingly familiar notes of his cologne. Close enough to see the rise and fall of his breath underneath his charcoal suit, hands tucked into his pockets, the moon illuminating his face and drawing shadows in places that make my mouth water.

Close enough that I immediately avert my eyes and remind myself that I do not care.

There's a moment where it's quiet, and I can tell he's searching for my gaze, but I deny him the opportunity to catch it.

"You smoke?" he asks, finally breaking the tension, voice cool and collected.

I shrug nonchalantly, pointedly looking out into the sky. "That's what it seems like, I guess."

"You know, it's bad for you to smoke."

I finally drag my gaze up to meet his, blowing out a plume between my lips. "Thought you were a businessman, not a doctor."

He pauses, opens his mouth for a rebuttal, and then thinks better with a sigh. "Do you have an extra on you, at least?"

"A hypocritical one at that."

Despite the murmur under my breath, the dry look he pins me with tells me it doesn't go unheard. "I'm a little stressed, if you have to know."

"Stressed?" I echo, brows furrowed. "What about?"

"You."

Our gazes fuse in the midnight air, and I ignore the way it trickles down all the way to the base of my spine. His eyes are earnest in a way that I hadn't been suspecting, in a way that I couldn't have ever prepared for, and I'm caught off guard. When I catch myself, I swallow, and the sky steals my gaze once again.

"I'm honoured to have such an effect on you," I say, tapping the burning ember off my smoke. "But I don't have an extra, unfortunately. Giovanni was only nice enough to give me one. Guess we both didn't think I'd meet any friends out here."

Under the pale moonlight, I can see his mouth twitch. "Jason, you mean? And don't worry, I saw."

Suddenly the rest of Jason's sentence before I kissed him is making sense. I sniff and shake my head, bringing me back to the moment.

"You did, did you?" Mocking undertones drip from my words. "See, I thought maybe you just hadn't seen me, but it's great to hear you were just blatantly ignoring me. Reassuring. Thanks so much."

My smile is equal parts saccharine and lethal, and I pointedly blow another puff of smoke in his direction, if only to keep the violence between us on a second-hand level.

He threads his fingers through his hair. "I didn't mean to- it was just bad timing."

"Right," I drawl. "Timing, gotcha. And that would be the time to have basic human decency and respect? That time? I wasn't asking for you to profess your undying love to me, Noel, I was asking for a fucking wave. Acknowledgment that I'm an actual human being."

I swallow, a little harder than usual, and ignore the way my scalp prickles. There's the logical part of my brain that's already gobbling up his excuse and sweeping the rest under the rug, whispers of overreaction igniting in my synapses, but I can't ignore the way my stomach is twisting. There's too much unspoken in the way his gaze shifted from mine, and I can't seem to let it go.

A quiet floods between us, and it's a calm of the water's surface, a deceptive veil over all our messy, unspoken words that are clamouring underneath but not quite breaking through. We linger.

Neither of us has anything to say.

I drink in another drag from my cigarette and reluctantly meet his gaze

"It's... complicated."

His dark eyes are shining with something I don't want to admit to.

"Wow, okay," I scoff. "Have you considered trademarking that? You can't let that sort of originality slip through your fingers."

"I'm sorry, if anything. Truly, I am. I shouldn't have acted that way, and that was rude of me. I'm genuinely sorry."

His voice is soft, gentle, like smooth velvet against my skin. Within the darkness of his pupils, magnified by his black frames, I'm easily transported back to Mark's apartment, Mark's couch, his lips on mine. All the feelings come crashing back down too hard and too fast. I swallow them down.

I cross my arms over my chest, defiant. "How convenient, apology not accepted."

"How about if I give you ten thousand dollars?"

There's a small, muted smile that finds his face and it makes me want to pin him up against the wall and taste it.

I snort, eyes narrowing with a little less heart this time, biting back a smile. "Oh fuck you, my feelings are actually hurt here."

At the lack of venom in my voice, Noel visibly perks up, the perpetual crease in his brow finally softening.

"I know, I know, and I'm sorry. You don't deserve anyone making you feel like that. I'll make it up to you. I promise."

He takes a step closer, and for some reason, I can't stop myself from believing words that by anyone else I would scoff at. Somehow from his lips they're wrapping around my exposed shoulders like a fleece blanket. There's something in the way he hesitates before meeting my eye, and how he refuses to break when he finally does.

My drunken instincts have me wanting to bury myself in his neck, shamelessly nuzzle into his skin and drink in his cologne. The warmth in my chest is building and blossoming, and to stop myself from going too far, I hold out my smoke.

"Your apology is still not accepted, but you can take a drag if you so please."

The tension in his shoulders visibly relaxes, and he accepts my offer, shooting me a small smile. I pointedly keep my face deadpan, chewing on the inside of my cheek to keep myself from revealing too much.

"I didn't know you smoked," he says, bringing the cigarette between his lips.

I rub my arms fervently, hoping to generate any type of heat to combat the cool night air. "There's a lot of you don't know about me, Mr. Carlton."

"Mysterious," he muses.

A small laugh escapes my lips. "To be honest, I usually don't. Not anymore, at least, but I was terrible in high school. Skipping class and smoking under the bleachers are some great coping mechanisms for dead parents."

"It's also great for overbearing family and crushing expectations," he agrees, a stream of smoke whispering past his lips.

"Family?"

He nods, and despite my eyes already having adjusted to the low lighting of outside, his expression is marked by its usual stony countenance that I can't read too much into. I notice that the crease between his brows has appeared again, though.

"Lots of it, and with lots of opinions. One of them being my sister, Angelica, who was with me tonight," he explains, and then shoots me a sly look. "In case you were worried."

As the revelation comes to light, suddenly I'm cross-comparing features between the two of them- tanned skin, dark hair, long lashes, and I can't suppress the small touch of relief that relaxes my shoulders.

"What? Me? Worried? That you had a Victoria Secret angel on your arm?"

He gives a low chuckle and then passes the smoke back to me. "You're right, seemed a little busy with... what did you call him? Giovanni? Either way, I guess you and Jason were a little too busy to exchange names."

"What? You saw that?" My breath sharpens in a mocking gasp.

"Unfortunately. I must have forgotten. Are we in high school? Are you trying to make me jealous?" he asks, raising a brow.

I can tell he's fighting back a smile, and I can't help but laugh. Somehow, despite how silly it all seems now that the world is seeming a little sharper than it did fifteen minutes ago, the warmth in his tone forbids me from feeling stupid about it.

"I was trying to get your attention. Why, did it work?"

"Well, I'm here now, aren't I?"

He is, and somehow, despite all of my intentions, the carefully crafted knot that had accompanied me every time he'd avoid me in the hall is now unraveling under his gaze.

"I'm surprised you got away. It seemed like Angelica was clinging onto you pretty tightly all night."

He laughs, scratching at the back of his head. "She's not a fan of large crowds, and when she doesn't know anyone, she doesn't like to be left alone. I left her in the great care of Christian, though, so she'll be okay."

I draw in another drag from the smoke. "Well, either way, I'm glad. I would've been even more pissed if you had a girlfriend. I know I only have like, two morals or whatever, but one of them is no cheating." I hold out the bud of the cigarette to him, already on its last breath.

He shakes his head, and I nod, dropping the smoke from my fingers and the murdering it under my stiletto.

"What if we had started dating after you and I kissed?" he asks, tilting his head in curiosity.

I wrinkle my nose. "Yeah, but then that means I can't kiss you again, and that's no fun."

"You want to kiss me again?" His face reads genuinely surprised, ears unmistakeably dusting red.

I fix him with a measured look. "Don't play coy, it's not cute."

That might actually be a lie, but I bite it back, capturing my bottom lip with my teeth.

He laughs, scratching at the stubble on his jaw. "Well, as a twenty-nine-year-old man, cute wasn't what I was going for, honestly."

"Listen," I say. "Your best friend is a cat. Let's not aim too high here, just take what you can get."

This time I can't help the grin that finds its way on my face.

Noel bristles. "Mark is my best friend."

I roll my eyes. "Okay, yeah, sure. I may be dumb, but I'm not blind. You like that cat way more than Mark. More than anyone, really."

"You're not dumb," he argues, softly, and then, "It's, well, I need her. In some ways, she's all I have, okay?"

There's a beat of quiet between us, swallowed up by the midnight air, and suddenly I'm hyperaware of the flush that's still clinging to my cheeks from the many glasses of champagne. My pulse is heavy but steady, and I swallow when I see Noel's eyes shift to the darkness. There's too much saliva pooling on my tongue.

"Shouldn't you be going back inside? Isn't anyone going to miss you?" I ask, eyes falling to the asphalt beneath us.

A small smile pulls up the edge of his mouth, and he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I'm okay right here, if that's all right with you."

"I don't mind the company," I admit.

He hasn't moved.

A shiver crawls down my spine.

"Are you going to make it up to me?" I ask, shattering the quiet. "For hurting my feelings. I didn't lie when I said I wasn't over it."

There's something on his face that I'm getting more and more familiar with, all of his intentions exposed within the heat of his gaze, dropping down my face and settling on my mouth. His eyes are searching along my skin, and there's a distinct weakness that floods my knees. Noel takes a step forward.

"How can I make it up to you?" he asks, but the way he runs his tongue along his top lip already knows.

I scoff. "What did I tell you about playing coy?"

Before he can reply, I'm pulling him closer by his tie and capturing his lips with my own. He's warm against my mouth in all the right ways, and he tastes like champagne and scallops, but also something uniquely Noel that I could get drunk off of, and I need more.

My fingers thread through his hair, and the heat of his palms snake down to settle decisively on my hips. I can barely keep up before his fingers are digging into my skin, dragging me flush against his torso and nudging me into the brick wall. His need mirrors my own, and all of our misplaced, sparing glances over the night are manifesting into a crescendo of his mouth against mine.

And I'm all fucking in.

Fingertips migrate down his chest, memorizing the feel of his body underneath them as he sucks soft reassurances down my jawline. My eyes flutter close as he finds a sweet spot just in the crook of my neck, grazing his teeth against my flesh in a way that has me panting, desperately grasping at him, wanting, needing more. There's a boldness to my hands as they drop further and then they're toying with his belt, just barely, but enough that Noel notices.

He pauses, issuing more of a whine than I'd like to admit from my lips. His glasses are slightly askew in a way that sparks the strangest things in me, and his breath is laboured, harmonizing with mine in short, sweet gasps. I go to kiss him again, but he pulls away.

I pout. "Why are you stopping?"

He swallows, and I'm transfixed by his Adam's apple dipping in his throat.

"I'm not going to do this here. I want to take my time with you."

I'm fucked.