Chapter 20 - When Wanting Became the Problem

Noah's POV

I lasted twelve hours.

Twelve.

Hours

That's how long I managed to stay away from her last night—after almost kissing her again, after nearly losing every bit of control I had left.

I thought sleep would help.

It didn't.

I thought distance would make it easier.

It didn't.

Every time I closed my eyes, I felt her breath against my lips. Every time I tried to focus on anything else, I heard her whisper:

"Maybe I don't want you to stop."

Yeah. I was ruined.

By late afternoon, I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed my keys made some excuse to my mom, and walked outside just in time to hear her laugh.

A soft, quiet laugh. From her porch.

My chest tightened instantly.

Ava was standing by the railing, sunlight hitting her, making her look happier than she had any right to be while I was losing my mind.

She turned—and froze when she saw me.

Her smile softened into something else. Something dangerous.

"Hi," she said quietly.

I swallowed. "Hey."

We stood there, yards apart, pretending we weren't both drowning.

She stepped down off her porch.

One step. Two. Three.

I stepped toward her too—like gravity wasn't optional.

We met halfway, somewhere between my driveway and hers, a place that didn't belong to either of us but felt like the safest place in the world.

"You came," she said.

"I shouldn't have," I murmured.

"But you did."

I huffed out a breath. "Yeah. I did."

She looked up at me, eyes warm and questioning. "Why?"

Honesty felt too easy around her.

"Because staying away from you feels impossible," I whispered.

Her breath caught.

She stood so close I could see every emotion in her eyes—fear, want, hope, danger.

"Noah..." she said softly. "Jacob is still mad."

"I know."

"And everything's messy."

"I know."

"And we're making it worse."

"I know," I said again, stepping closer, "but none of that stopped me."

She stared at me like she was memorizing me. Then she whispered:

"I didn't want it to."

That was it.

That was the moment the thin thread holding my self-control snapped.

I lifted my hand to her cheek, brushing a thumb along her jaw—barely touching, but enough to make her breath hitch.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

"Ava," I whispered, "tell me to stop."

She shook her head slightly, leaning into my touch. "I won't."

My heart stuttered. "Please. Because if I don't stop now—"

"Then don't," she breathed.

My forehead dropped to hers.

I wasn't kissing her. I wasn't touching her anywhere I shouldn't. But I was closer than I'd ever been while still trying not to break.

"You're killing me," I whispered.

She smiled softly. "Then we're even."

Her hands slip up the front of my shirt, fingers curling lightly into the fabric—not pulling, just holding on.

Something inside me burned at the contact.

"Ava..." My voice came out lower than I intended. Rougher. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

She looked up at me through her lashes, innocent and not innocent at all. "Maybe I do."

I exhaled sharply, stepping back before I lost what little control I had left.

Her expression flickered with disappointment.

"I'm not walking away," I said quickly. "I just—if I get any closer, I'm not going to think about consequences."

A blush rose on her cheeks. "You're not the only one."

That nearly undid me.

I ran a hand through my hair, pacing once in frustration.

"This is getting harder," I said under my breath.

She bit her lip. "For me too."

That simple sentence sent heat straight down my spine.

"Don't say things like that," I muttered.

"Why?"

"Because you have no idea where my mind goes."

She stepped forward—slowly, deliberately—closing the distance I'd just created.

"Then tell me."

My pulse pounded.

"Ava," I warned.

She lifted her chin. "Noah."

I shut my eyes for one second too long.

When I opened them, she was still there—barely a breath away.

Still choosing me.

Still wanting me.

Still making it impossible to breathe.

"This isn't over," I whispered.

Her lips curved. "I know."

I backed away slowly—only because if I didn't, I'd be kissing her for real and not stopping for a long, long time.

But even as I left her standing in the glow of the setting sun, I felt it:

The shift.

The inevitability.

The quiet, terrifying truth.

Wanting her wasn't the problem anymore.

Not wanting her was.