N O A H

I freeze, realizing just how close we've gotten. My heart races, and I suddenly feel exposed, like I've opened up too much, too fast. I've never shown anyone that box, never let anyone see this side of me, and now... I'm not sure what I was thinking.

I pull away abruptly, shoving the box back into the closet. "I- I'm sorry," I stammer, my voice rough. "I don't know what I'm doing. I shouldn't have shown you that."

Sarah's brows knit together, confusion written all over her face.

"Noah, it's okay," she says, her voice soft but unsure. "You don't have to apologize."

But I can't look at her. The vulnerability feels too raw, too real, and I'm not ready for it. "Just... leave, okay?" I mutter, my back turned to her. "I shouldn't have dragged you into this."

She stands there for a moment, not moving, and I can feel her eyes on me, like she's trying to read my mind, to understand what's going on inside my messed-up head.

"I'm angry at you, Noah," she finally says, her voice trembling slightly. "I do hate you sometimes... but that doesn't mean I want to see you like this. If you need someone to listen, I'm here."

I don't deserve her kindness, not after everything I've done, after the way I've treated her. I turn to face her, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"It's fine," I say, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. "I'll be okay. You can go."

There's a beat of silence, and then she nods slowly, clearly hesitant, before walking out of the room. I watch her go, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

What the hell am I doing?

I can't keep going back and forth like this, can't keep dragging her into my chaos.

The hours drag on, the weight of what happened lingering in the back of my mind like a dull ache. By the time evening rolls around, I'm pacing the living room, restless and full of regret.

I can't stop thinking about the look on her face, the way she offered to listen, even when she had every right to walk away.

Without thinking, I find myself in the kitchen. Sarah's there, her back to me as she prepares dinner. I don't even know why I'm here, but I force myself to speak.

"Need any help?" I ask, my voice awkward and unsure.

She glances over her shoulder, looking a bit surprised, then shrugs. "Sure. You can chop the vegetables."

I nod, stepping up beside her. It's a simple task, but it feels like a step forward, like maybe I can start fixing things between us, one small gesture at a time.

As we work side by side, the kitchen fills with the sound of chopping and sizzling. The silence between us is heavy but not uncomfortable.

I glance at her from the corner of my eye. She's focused, strands of hair falling in her face, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

There's something about the way she's moving, so determined, so stubbornly strong, that catches my attention. My eyes trail down, noticing how the curve of her neck glistens slightly under the kitchen light, the way her shirt clings to her back.

Damn it, Noah, focus.

But I can't help it. There's something about seeing her like this, so real and unguarded, that gets under my skin. I swallow hard, trying to push the thoughts away, but they only get louder.

I force myself to keep chopping, but my mind is wandering to places it shouldn't. I can't remember the last time someone made me feel like this, the way she does. It's frustrating, confusing, and infuriating all at once.

Sarah wipes her brow with the back of her hand, not even noticing the way I'm staring. I clear my throat, hoping she doesn't catch me looking.

"You okay?" I ask.

A small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, just a little hot in here."

More than you know. I quickly look away, pretending to focus on the vegetables, but the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife.

I don't know what's happening between us, but it's electric, something I can't quite name, and I have no idea where it's leading.

Dinner is almost ready, and I'm relieved for the distraction. But as we set the table together, our hands accidentally brush, and I can't ignore the spark that shoots up my arm. I pull away quickly, pretending it didn't happen, but from the way she's biting her lip, I know she felt it too.

What the hell is happening to me?

Dinner is a quiet affair. It's just the two of us at the long dining table, surrounded by an awkward silence that feels like it could swallow us whole..

I've tried to be more... normal tonight. Less of the mess that I usually am around her.

Sarah is sitting across from me, her eyes focused on her plate, chewing quietly. I'm still reeling from earlier, from the way she slapped me only to turn around and comfort me. It's like she's got this power over me, this strange ability to see through all my crap.

And I hate it, but I also... crave it.

I catch myself staring, watching the way her lips press together as she eats, the way her shoulders rise and fall with each breath.

I need to stop. But I can't.

We finish dinner in silence, but for some reason, it feels... peaceful.

When we're done, I surprise her and myself by helping with the dishes. It's a small gesture, but I'm trying to show her that I'm not just this self-destructive wreck she's had to deal with.

I don't want to keep being the person she has to forgive over and over again.

We stand side by side at the sink, rinsing plates. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun, little wisps escaping around her face.

The kitchen is warm, and she's got this sheen of sweat on her skin that's honestly making it hard to focus. I'm supposed to be thinking of how to apologize, how to make things right, but all I can think about is how close we are, how easy it would be to just reach out and-

Focus, Noah.

I can't help but admire that how steady she is, how unflinching.

After the dishes are done, the silence hangs between us. I lean against the counter, trying to find the right words. "Sarah," I start, my voice softer than I intended. "Do you... hate me?"

She freezes, her hand still holding the dish towel. Her eyes meet mine, and I swear she's going to tell me off. But then, she sighs. "I did," she admits, turning to face me fully. "I hated you so much. But... I've realized something tonight."

My throat tightens, waiting for the inevitable blow. "And what's that?"

"I want to start over." She takes a breath, like she's gathering the courage to continue.

"From today, I want to pretend like I'm meeting you for the first time. Because everything I've seen and heard so far... it's just confusing me. It's affecting my peace of mind."

Her words hit me like a truck, knocking the wind out of me. How can she just... forgive like that? Start over so easily?

I blink, trying to process it. "You want to start fresh?" I ask, disbelief coloring my tone.

"Yes." She nods firmly. "I don't know who you really are, Noah. And I think maybe... you don't either. But I want to give it a chance. I want to try and see beyond... whatever this mess is."

She's looking at me with those steady eyes, and damn it, why does she have to be like this?

Strong, forgiving, kind-everything I'm not.

"Thank you," I whisper, the words barely audible.

It's all I can manage because, honestly, I don't deserve this. I don't deserve her patience, her willingness to start over.

My eyes trace the droplets sliding down her neck, disappearing under her collar, and I swallow hard.

She catches me staring and raises an eyebrow. "Something wrong?" she asks, wiping her hands on a towel, clearly oblivious to what she's doing to me right now.

I quickly look away, trying to hide my flushed face. "N-No, nothing," I stammer, hoping she can't hear the way my heart is racing.

God, I need to get a grip.

But even as I tell myself to back off, I can't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something different between us.

Something I'm not sure I deserve, but something I desperately want.