Olivia's POV
That afternoon, after lunch, Adrian took Noah to the shed behind the house. I stayed in the living room, half-watching a TV show I wasn't really paying attention to while absently sipping my tea. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, lazy and warm, and the sound of birds blended with distant laughter from the neighborhood. Everything felt calm—mundane, even—until a loud crash shattered the stillness.
Then came Adrian's voice, sharp, worried, calling Noah's name.
I froze for half a second before panic sent me rushing outside. My sandals slapped against the walkway as I turned the corner, and what I saw made my stomach twist. The motorbike lay toppled near the shed, the handlebars twisted, one wheel still spinning. Noah was on the ground, his jeans scuffed and his ankle pinned beneath the bike while Adrian struggled to lift it.
"Oh, my God!" I sprinted to them and dropped to my knees beside Noah. "Are you hurt anywhere else? Can you move your leg?" My hands hovered helplessly, brushing dirt from his sleeve.
Something inside me tightened—an uncomfortable realization that I'd gone to Noah first before checking if Adrian was fine. I pushed the thought aside. This wasn't the time.
Adrian finally heaved the bike upright, breathing hard. "He wanted to try it out," he said, half-exasperated, half-amused. "Said he's got his license, so he knows what he's doing. I told him no, but apparently, he knows better."
Noah gave a sheepish laugh that quickly turned into a wince. "It's not my fault your bike has a death wish. I just tapped the throttle, and the thing went wild."
I glared at both of them. "You're both unbelievable. This isn't something to laugh about—you could've broken your leg!"
"Relax, Liv," Adrian said with a small smile, wiping his hands on his jeans. "He's fine. Just shook up, that's all."
Noah tried to stand to prove him right, but hissed in pain and nearly lost his balance. Adrian caught him just in time. "Alright," Adrian muttered, frowning now. "Maybe not that fine. Let's get you inside. I'll call Dr. Reyes to check on that ankle."
Adrian helped him limp back toward the house. The walk took longer than it should have—Noah insisting he was fine every few steps, Adrian ignoring him, and me silently walking behind them, watching the way Noah leaned against Adrian's shoulder.
When we reached the living room, Noah sank onto the couch, carefully propping his leg on the coffee table. Adrian grabbed his keys, saying, "I'll go fetch the doctor—back in twenty," before heading out the door.
The room fell quiet again. The noise from outside faded, replaced by the ticking clock and the faint buzz of the TV still playing in the background. I poured a glass of water and turned to offer it to Noah, but before I could, his hand reached out and caught my wrist.
"Don't go," he said, his voice low, almost shaky.
I blinked, surprised. "I was just getting you water," I said, soft but uncertain.
"Stay a bit," he whispered, his grip trembling slightly. "Please."
Something in his tone—pleading, fragile—made me sit down again. He exhaled, leaning closer until his head rested gently on my shoulder. The warmth of him seeped through the fabric of my blouse, and my pulse quickened despite myself.
"Noah, you should rest," I murmured, trying to sound calm.
"I just… need to stay like this," he replied. "I've wanted to—for so long."
I froze. "What are you talking about?"
He took a shaky breath. "I regret introducing you to Adrian that day." His voice cracked. "I thought I was being a good friend, you know? You looked at him like he hung the stars. I didn't think—" He swallowed. "I didn't think I'd lose you that fast."
My heart sank. "Noah, you didn't lose me. You never—"
"I did," he cut in, lifting his head to meet my eyes. "Maybe not the way people mean it, but I did. Because the moment you smiled at him, I knew I didn't stand a chance."
I sat there, silent, guilt spreading through my chest. "I had no idea," I whispered. "If I did—" I hesitated, searching for words that wouldn't sound like lies. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
He gave a weak smile. "I know you didn't. That's what made it worse." He laughed softly—brokenly. "You were too kind even when you should've pulled away."
Before I could say anything, his hand found mine again, fingers entwining tightly, and something inside me faltered.
"You shouldn't—" I started, but then he leaned in, closing the small distance between us. His lips brushed mine—gentle at first, almost questioning—then deeper, weighted with years of buried feelings.
The glass slipped from my other hand, water spilling onto the rug, but I didn't move. For a heartbeat, I let the world fall silent. There was only the taste of warmth and guilt, the scent of dust and sunlight, the soft sound of our breaths mingling.
And I didn't resist. For that one impossible second, I let myself forget who we were, who he was to Adrian, who I was supposed to be.
When he finally pulled away, both of us breathing unevenly, he whispered, "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have. But I couldn't keep pretending."
I looked at him, eyes stinging. "You can't say things like that, Noah. Not now… not like this."
He held my gaze, a faint tear at the corner of his eye. "I just needed you to know. Even if it changes nothing."
Silence stretched between us—thick, heavy, real—until we heard the distant hum of a car pulling up outside. Adrian was back.
Noah's hand slipped away slowly, his expression shuttered. I stood, smoothing the wrinkles from my dress, my heart thundering as if nothing and everything had happened all at once.
By the time Adrian stepped inside, smiling faintly and saying, "Doctor's on his way," Noah was sitting upright, pretending to adjust his ankle, and I was standing by the window, my hands trembling, trying to convince myself the air wasn't different—when it so clearly was.