The loft was already vibrating with bass when Noah stepped inside, Tyler draped lazily around his shoulder. People crowded every corner—sweaty, laughing, drinking like tomorrow didn't exist. Neon lights flashed against the walls, strobing red and violet, the kind of chaos Noah usually thrived in.
Usually.
Tonight, he felt it the second he spotted Julian by the window. The boy was a contradiction: clean white shirt buttoned to the collar, haloed in the glow of city lights spilling through the glass, standing out like he belonged in another universe.
Julian wasn't talking much, but he didn't have to. People gravitated toward him in small orbits, curious, drawn by his quiet gravity. He stood calm, a glass of soda in hand, gaze drifting through the crowd. Until it landed on Noah.
And stuck.
Noah felt his smirk twitch at the corner of his lips. For a moment, neither looked away. Sparks. Like last time.
Tyler nudged him. "You seeing what I'm seeing?"
"Shut up," Noah muttered, dragging him toward the kitchen.
Julian Watching
Julian tried not to follow Noah with his eyes. Tried—and failed.
He told himself it was curiosity, nothing more. A puzzle to solve. Noah was reckless, magnetic, too loud, too wild. Everything Julian had always despised in people. And yet…
The way he carried himself, grin reckless even under neon light. The ease with which he drew people in. It gnawed at Julian's composure, like a loose thread pulling at the hem of a sweater.
He hated it.
He couldn't look away.
When Noah disappeared into the kitchen, Julian's hand tightened on his glass. His chest buzzed with something restless, dangerous. Obsession in its earliest seed.
Without thinking, he followed.
The Kitchen
The kitchen was dimmer, quieter, but no less alive. Music still throbbed through the walls, but here it was softened, blurred, as if the air itself was holding its breath.
Noah was leaning against the counter, one arm braced, his grin already halfway between cocky and exhausted. A bottle of beer dangled from his fingers.
"Of course," he muttered when Julian walked in. "Figures the library decided to crash the kitchen."
Julian raised a brow, unfazed. "And of course, the caveman is hoarding all the alcohol."
Noah laughed under his breath. "Careful. You keep talking like that and people might think you like me."
Julian didn't miss a beat. "Don't flatter yourself."
But his gaze betrayed him—lingering a second too long on the curve of Noah's mouth, the sweat-damp hair falling into his green eyes, the way his broad shoulders filled the space like he owned it.
Noah noticed. Oh, he definitely noticed.
Noah leaned closer, grin sharp. "You keep looking at me like that, angel, and I'm gonna start charging rent."
Julian's jaw clenched. "I wasn't looking."
"You were."
"Maybe I was cataloguing your flaws," Julian snapped. "Someone has to keep track of your ego."
Noah's chuckle was low, rolling through Julian's chest like thunder. "Careful, Ainsworth. You're starting to sound obsessed."
The word sliced too close to truth. Julian's pulse skipped. He turned to the fridge just to break the stare, yanking it open. "You're insufferable."
"And you're fun when you're mad."
The corner of Julian's lip twitched. He hated that Noah made him feel this—this hot, restless hum under his skin, this urge to close distance instead of creating it.
Noah's grin faltered just slightly when silence settled. He tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling for a second too long, like he was trying to drown out the music with his thoughts.
Julian caught it—the faint crack in his armor.
"You're not as invincible as you act," Julian said quietly.
Noah's head snapped down, glare sharp. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means people who spend all their time laughing the loudest usually have something to hide." Julian's voice softened, gaze piercing. "And I can tell you're hiding a lot."
For a heartbeat, Noah froze. His chest tightened, grandparents' words echoing in his skull: weakness. shameful behavior.
He masked it with a scoff. "You psychoanalyzing me now? Cute."
Julian held his gaze, unflinching. "Maybe I just notice things."
Noah hated it—hated how Julian could see him, even if just for a second.
They stood too close now, words forgotten. The hum of the refrigerator, the muffled bass, their uneven breaths—everything condensed into one sharp moment.
Noah's hand brushed Julian's when he set the bottle down. Just a graze. But it sent a current through both of them, sharp and undeniable.
Julian's throat went dry. His body betrayed him, leaning a fraction closer when he should've leaned away. His gaze dropped, unbidden, to Noah's mouth.
Noah smirked slow, dangerous. "Careful, angel. You're about to blow your cover."
Julian's pulse roared. He wanted to deny it, to spit back something sharp. Instead, his voice betrayed him. "Maybe I don't care."
The words slipped out before he could catch them. Raw. Reckless. Honest.
Noah's grin faltered. For once, he didn't have a comeback. His chest hammered, breath catching, because for the first time he wasn't sure if Julian was joking or not.
The air burned between them.
And then—
"NOAH!"
Tyler stumbled into the kitchen, grinning like an idiot, arm wrapped around a girl's shoulders. "There you are, man! Come on, shots!"
The tension shattered like glass.
Noah jerked back, raking a hand through his hair. Julian straightened, adjusting his glasses, face shuttered.
Tyler didn't notice a thing, too busy dragging Noah toward the chaos outside. Noah hesitated, glancing back once—just once.
Julian was still standing by the counter, composed on the surface. But his eyes burned.
Obsessed.
Julian didn't leave the kitchen for a long time. He stood there, fingers curling around the countertop, pulse still thrumming where Noah's hand had brushed his.
He told himself it was nothing. Just heat of the moment. Just irritation twisting into something else.
But the truth settled heavy in his chest.
He wanted Noah Blake.
Not as a puzzle. Not as an enemy.
As an obsession he couldn't control.