Chapter 25—The First Night We Didn't Look Away

Ava's POV

The day started quietly

Almost too quietly.

After Noah and I sat in the living room that morning, letting the strangeness of being alone together settle in, we kind of... drifted into normal things. Or at least things that looked normal on the outside.

Inside, nothing about today felt normal at all.

Late Morning—Breakfast & Barely Hidden Nervousness

Noah made us breakfast. Well—I tried to help, but he kept gently nudging me away from the hot stove like he was afraid I might burn my hand on something.

"You're dangerous in a kitchen," he teased.

"You haven't even seen what I can do," I said.

"I'm already terrified," he joked, but he smiled at me like... like he just liked having m there.

We ate at the counter, knees brushing every so often. Each time it happened, he'd freeze for half a second, like he felt it exactly as strongly as I did.

Neither of us said anything about it.

Neither of us needed to.

Midday—The Game

After breakfast, we ended up in the living room again. Noah found one of Jacob's old video game controllers and held it up with a smirk.

"You any good?"

"Probably not," I admitted.

"Want to learn?"

So we sat side by side, shoulders touching, sharing a controller when I couldn't figure out the buttons. His hand would come over mine sometimes—not intentionally, but not accidentally either—guiding me which way to move the joystick.

Every time his fingers brushed mine, heat shot through my whole turn.

"Okay, not bad," he said after I lost for the third time in a row.

"That was humiliating," I laughed.

"You can get revenge later," he said. "Maybe."

Afternoon—Rain & Tea & Quiet Moments

When rain started hitting the windows around 3PM, thw house felt even softer, warmer, like the world had shrunk to just the two of us.

I made tea for us—something simple, chamomile—and we sat on opposite ends of the couch at first.

But as the rain got stronger, and the light dimmed a little, Noah shifted closer.

A little. Then a little more. Until our legs touched again. "Cold?" he asked quietly.

"A little."

He didn't touch me, but he sat close enough that I didn't feel cold anymore.

Evening—Dinner

We decided to cook pasta for dinner. Correction: we decided Noah would cook pasta and I would "supervise," as he put it.

"You chop the basil," he said.

"I can handle that," I replied, proud of my tiny role.

But when I nearly cut a piece too big, he stepped behind me, gently taking the knide from my hand.

"Like this," he murmured.

His hand wrapped lightly around mine to show me the motion.

It shouldn't have felt intimate.

But it did.

Everything today did.

By the time we ate—laughing over how uneven my basil was—something between us felt... settled. Softer. Closer. Like we weren't pretending anymore.

Night - The Moment Everything Shifted

After dinner, we moved to the floor to pick a movie, but the remote ended up forgotten between us. We didn't even look at the screen.

The space between us felt warm, humming, alive.

Noah sat close enough that our knees brushed every time one of us shifted. Each little touch sent a quiet spark up my spine, and from the way his breath deepened every time it happened, I knew he felt it too.

"I'm not even pretending to watch this," I said softly.

He huffed a breathy laugh. "Yeah, I noticed."

I turned to him at the exact moment he turned to me, and for a second, neither of us breathed.

His eyes dropped to my mouth--just barely--but enough for my heart to leap.

"Ava," he murmured, voice low and warm, "you've been looking at me like that all day."

I swallowed. "Like what?"

He shook his head slightly, the tiniest smile tugging at his lips. "Like you're trying to decide something."

My pulse picked up. "Maybe I am."

He exhaled, slow and uneven—the kind of breath someone takes when they're trying not to lose control.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he whispered.

I didn't tell him.

I showed him.

I leaned in, just enough for our arms to touch more fully. He tensed—not in fear, but in that way someone tenses when they're fighting the urge to move closer.

"Ava..." he breathed, warning and wanting tangled together.

"You don't have to be careful right now," I said softly.

His eyes closed for a second, like my words hit somewhere deep.

When they opened again, they were warmer than I'd ever seen.

"Come here," he said quietly—gentle, not demanding.

I shifted closer.

He lifted his arm, letting me settle against his side, my head resting just under his shoulder. His warmth seeped through me instantly, steady and grounding.

"I like this," I whispered.

He turned his head slightly, his cheek brushing my hair. "Me too."

The movie played on, forgotten.

I felt him breathe. Slow. Steady. Careful.

Like he was holding something back.

His fingers traced a soft path along my arm, barely touching, just enough to make my skin react in tiny shivers I couldn't hide.

He noticed.

"You're cold?" he asked.

"No," I whispered. "Not cold."

His breath hitched.

He moved his hand slowly—giving me time to pull away—until his fingers slid lightly into mine, intertwining them.

My whole body warmed.

"Ava..." His voice broke a little. "If I'm too close, tell me."

"You're not too close," I said, and the honesty of it made my chest squeeze.

His thumb brushed the back of my hand.

A small, intimate gesture. So gentle. So careful. So much more than a kiss.

"Look at me," he murmured.

I tilted my face toward him.

He didn't kiss me—not yet. Instead, he reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear, letting his fingers linger against my cheek. The warmth of his touch made my breath catch.

"I've been trying to go slow," he whispered. "All day."

"Why?"

"Because you're... not just anyone." He swallowed hard. "And because I don't want to rush something that feels like this."

My voice came out barely a breath. "Like what?"

His gaze softened, deepened. "Like something I wasn't supposed to feel, but I do. Stronger than I expected."

My heart thudded.

I leaned forward just a little—tiny, hesitant, wanting.

He noticed it immediately. He always noticed everything.

His hand slid gently to my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek as he leaned in.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered, breath warm against my lips.

"I don't want you to stop," I whispered back.

That was all he needed.

His lips met mine—soft at first, gentle, testing—then deeper as the moment pulled both of us in. His hand cupped the back of my neck, guiding me closer, while our joined hands tightened between us.

The kiss wasn't rushed. It wasn't messy. It was warm and slow and full—like he's been waiting all day to give in to it.

When I shifted closer, he let out a quiet sound in his throat, something deep and unsteady, and pulling me carefully into him, his arm wrapping around my waist, holding me like I mattered.

The world blurred.

Just heat. Just breath. Just Noah.

He broke the kiss only when he needed air, but he didn't pull away--he pressed his forehead to mine, breathing me in.

His voice barely a whisper.

"Ava... I don't know what's happening to me."

My fingers slid up his chest, feeling his heartbeat under my palm. "I think," I murmured, "it's happening to me too."

He kissed me again—slow, lingering, tender in a way that made my chest ache—and then pulled me against him, letting us both settle into the soft, quiet warmth of the floor.

His arms stayed around me, one under my shoulders, the other resting at my waist, his thumb brushing slow, absent circles over the fabric of my shirt. Every small touch made my breath come a little shorter, but not from fear—just from the overwhelming closeness of him.

The room felt different now. Dim, warm, like it belonged only to us.

Noah exhaled softly, his breath stirring the hair near my cheek.

"You okay?" he murmured.

I nodded against him. "Yeah."

His had slid up my back in a gentle line that sent a shiver through me. He felt it—because his grip around me tightened just a little, like he wanted to pull me closer but didn't want to rush anything.

"You're shaking," he whispered.

"I'm not cold," I said quietly.

He let out a small, breathy laugh. "Yeah," he said, voice low, "I know."

He shifted—just enough so he could look at me, his face inches from mine. His eyes searched mine with this soft intensity that made it hard to look away.

"I've been trying to be careful all day," he admitted. "Trying not to make things weird... or too much."

"You didn't," I said.

"You're sure?"

I nodded. "I'm sure."

Something in his expression loosened, softened. His fingers lifted, brushing my jaw with light, warm pressure.

"You have no idea," he whispered, "how much I wanted to kiss you again today."

"You could've," I whispered.

His breath caught.

"Ava..." My name sounded almost like a confession in his voice. "I didn't want to push you."

"You didn't," I said, sliding my hand up to rest on his shoulder. "You never have."

His eyes flicked to my mouth, then back to my eyes, as though he was checking—double-checking—that this was real.

"Come here," he murmured, barely audible.

I lifted myself toward him. His arm curled around my waist, guiding me gently into his chest. We met halfway, lips brushing softly, then more surely, then deeply.

It wasn't rushed.

It wasn't messy.

It was slow... warm... full of a kind of tenderness that made my whole chest feel too tight.

His fingers threaded into my hair. My hand slid up the front of his shirt. He inhaled sharply when my thumb brushed the line of his collarbone—and he pressed closer, kissing me with a kind of gentle urgency, as though he’d been holding this in for far too long.

My body felt weightless.

His lips slowed, then deepened again, then softened into one last lingering kiss before he rested his forehead on mine, breathing hard.

“We should stop,” he whispered—not pulling away, just pausing. “Not because I want to… but because I’m starting to forget how.”

My fingers tightened lightly in his shirt. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”

He smiled--small, warm, a little ruined. "Ava... you're the one I'm worried about.

His thumb brushed my cheek again. “I don’t want to hurt you. Or go too fast. Or make you think I only want one thing from you.”

"I don't think that." I said softly

He swalloed, eyes searching mine. "Good... because I want all of you. Not just tonight. Not just this moment.

The words settled between us like heat.

I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss beneath his jaw. His breath stuttered—barely—and he pulled me into his chest again, holding me like he needed the closeness as much as I did.

He shifted so we were lying on our sides, my head tucked under his chin, his arm wrapped fully, securely around me.

Everything went quiet. Warm Steady,

“Stay here,” he whispered. “Just like this.”

"I will."

His hand slid up my back once more, slow and careful, and then traced a gentle line down again. The motion was rhythmic, calming, protective—like he was telling my body without words that I was safe with him.

My breathing fell into sync with his.

My eyes grew heavy.

The soft hum of the movie we weren’t watching faded into the background.

Noah brushed a final, soft kiss to the top of my head.

“Goodnight, Ava,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

And in the quiet, with his arms around me and the warmth of his breath on my hair, I drifted into sleep—safe, wanted, held.

I look up at him as we are laying down and ask him. "Noah... will you come upstairs with me?"