The small apartment smelled faintly of cleaning spray and lingering coffee, but Skye hardly noticed. His mind was elsewhere, caught in a storm of frustration, fear, and something he refused to name. He sat on the edge of his narrow bed, knees pulled up, papers scattered across the floor, but he couldn't focus on them. Every time he tried, his thoughts drifted back to Noah.
Noah. The name alone sent a shiver through him, a mix of irritation and something far more complicated. He was supposed to be just a fiancée—an arrangement, a compromise, nothing more. And yet every time Noah appeared, every smirk, every teasing glance, made his chest tighten in a way he couldn't control.
He thinks I'm a girl, Skye reminded himself, tugging at the sleeves of his oversized hoodie. He has no idea. Nobody does. Not even for a second.
The knock at the door broke his train of thought, making him jump. His mother had said she'd be gone for the afternoon, giving him space to settle. And yet here he was, her persistent shadow, invading his small, fragile sanctuary.
"Skye?" Noah's voice floated through the door, casual, teasing. "Hope I'm not interrupting your… busy life."
Skye groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Noah, seriously, just go away," he muttered.
"Not happening," came the familiar reply, followed by the sound of the door unlocking. His pulse jumped.
When the door opened, Noah stepped inside, scanning the room with that confident smirk. "You left the door unlocked," he said casually. "I thought I'd check in."
Skye's chest tightened. "You can't just barge in!" he snapped, though his voice lacked the strength he wanted.
"I can," Noah replied smoothly, shrugging. "And I will. After all, we're engaged. I need to know my fiancée is… surviving."
Skye flinched. He hated that this was true—hated the way the words made his stomach twist, the way he felt cornered and yet strangely thrilled by the proximity.
"I'm surviving just fine," he said, but the quiver in his voice betrayed him.
Noah's gaze swept over him, slow and deliberate. He noticed everything: the way Skye's hands clenched into fists, the way his chest rose faster than it should, the faint tremor in his shoulders. Step by step, he closed the distance, leaving Skye nowhere to hide.
"You look… tense," Noah said, voice low, teasing. "What are you hiding, princess?"
Skye's jaw tightened. He wanted to scream, to push him out, to slam the door. But the room was small, and he was trapped. He hugged himself instinctively, his delicate frame shrinking under Noah's dark, intense gaze.
"I'm not hiding anything!" he snapped, though his voice wavered.
"You're lying," Noah said simply, smirk widening. "I can see it. Every time you say that, you tense up. Your pulse jumps. You blush. You want me here, even if you won't admit it."
Skye's chest tightened further. He has no idea… he thought, bitter amusement and frustration mixing in his chest. If he knew, he'd freak. He'd never look at me the same way.
He tried to step back, to give himself space, but the wall behind him made escape impossible. Noah followed without hesitation, his presence overwhelming in the small apartment.
"You can't hide from me," Noah said softly, stepping even closer. "Not here. Not ever."
Skye swallowed hard, fists tightening. "You're… impossible," he muttered, almost under his breath.
"No," Noah said, voice low and dangerous, "I'm observant. And you… you're fascinating. Fragile, but so stubborn. Tiny, but full of fire. I can't look away."
Skye's heart raced. His body betrayed him, muscles trembling with tension. He hated how much his body reacted to Noah's presence, how the closeness made his pulse hammer, his cheeks flush, his mind spin. And yet… a part of him couldn't deny it. He wanted this tension, wanted the teasing, the closeness, the impossible pull between them.
"You think I don't notice?" Noah murmured, stepping closer still, until Skye could feel the heat radiating off him. "Every flinch, every sharp breath, every little reaction… I see it. You want this, even if you won't admit it."
Skye's lips parted, and for the briefest moment, he felt like he might collapse under the intensity. "I… I'm fine!" he said, though it sounded hollow even to his own ears.
"No, you're not," Noah replied, leaning casually against the counter. "And I love it. I love watching you struggle with it. Watching you flustered, tense… it's intoxicating."
Skye groaned, burying his face in his hands. He hated Noah. He hated that he made him feel exposed, tiny, vulnerable. And yet… he didn't want him to leave. The thought of the apartment empty without Noah, quiet, devoid of tension… it made his chest ache.
Noah's voice softened, though the intensity never left his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere," he said quietly. "Even if you push me away, I'll stay. I'll always stay."
Skye's heart thumped. He wanted to argue, to reclaim the space he so desperately needed, but he couldn't. He wanted Noah there, even if it frustrated him to admit it. He wanted the teasing, the proximity, the way every inch of him seemed to respond despite his best efforts to stay composed.
A sudden crash made them both jump. Skye's papers had slipped from the bed again, scattering across the floor. Without thinking, he bent to grab them, but Noah's hand reached the same moment, brushing against his. Their fingers touched briefly, and Skye flinched violently, cheeks flaming.
"You're clumsy," Noah said, smirk curling, handing him the papers.
"I'm not clumsy!" Skye snapped, though his voice wavered with something else—something he couldn't name.
"You're tense," Noah countered, stepping closer. "And I love it."
Skye's stomach lurched. He wanted to step away, to push Noah, to reclaim his space, but every instinct of his body argued against it. Every shiver, every racing heartbeat, every flush of his skin told him he didn't want to be alone either.
Noah's dark eyes softened ever so slightly. "Skye…" he murmured, voice low, almost reverent. "I'll stay close, even if you hate me for it. You can't escape me, not now, not ever."
Skye's chest tightened. He hated him. He hated the chaos Noah brought into his life, the fire he ignited in his chest, the way he could make him feel exposed and alive all at once.
And yet… deep down, there was a small, infuriating part of him that didn't want Noah to leave. That wanted the tension, the teasing, the closeness he could never admit aloud.
Because Noah Montclair was impossible. He was maddening. He was everything Skye wanted to fight… and everything he couldn't stop wanting.
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