Are you mine?

Chapter 19

Tucking my hair behind my ear, and gathering as much courage as I possibly can, I carefully knock on Noah's front door. A few moments go by before I hear his footsteps approaching from the other side, making my blood freeze in my veins.

He opens the door to reveal a mouth-watering sight, and the scent of mint hits me like a slap on the face. He towers in front of me, wearing tight black jeans, and a white long sleeve that shows off his broad frame, hugging his muscles in all the right places. His hair is perfectly and effortlessly tousled, but I know he styled it to look that way. A thin silver chain hangs from his neck, barely visible as it's tucked inside his shirt, and a black steel ring adorns the middle finger on his right hand.

I think I've been staring.

If I have, he doesn't seem to mind anyway, because when I look up, his green glimmering eyes reflect the same hunger as my own. "Breathtaking as ever." He smirks looking me up and down, and my blush reaches the tips of my ears.

"You don't look so bad yourself." I smile, faking confidence.

He chuckles "After you," he gestures inside the house, moving aside and allowing me to step in before closing the door behind me.

I've been in his house before but I've never seen it in the daylight and I'm amazed at how different it looks in this lighting. "Your house looks a lot fancier without all the drunk teenagers stumbling around." I say.

He laughs, showing off his pearly white teeth, "You want a tour?" he offers.

I nod, "Lead the way."

He guides me through the house, room after room. Every single one of them looks straight out of a home catalogue, each beautifully decorated and perfectly clean, with pristine white walls, high ceilings and elegant crown moldings. Everything is so neat and in place that you'd never guess people actually live here.

"And to conclude, this is my room." he says opening the door for me. The first thing I notice is that it unexpectedly bleak. Larger than any bedroom I've ever been in, even having its own ensuite bathroom, Noah's room barely has anything that would indicate this is his personal space. He goes over to sit on his bed, a king-size covered by a thick midnight-blue comforter and white pillows, silently allowing me to wander and take in my surroundings.

Three of the walls are covered in a textured, greyish-blue wallpaper. The fourth one consists of a floor-to-ceiling wardrobe, which has mirrored sliding doors. I find the fact that they reflect everything in the room slightly unsettling.

I go over to his desk, which seems to be the only thing that displays any personal items of his. A lonely picture frame sits atop it, two smiling little boys looking back at me. They have similar features but while one has raven black hair, the other one's locks are golden like the sun. Something tucked on the right-top corner of the frame catches my eye; a faded plastic red rose, with fake water droplets and spiky leaves.

"Why do you have a synthetic rose on your desk?" I ask, curiously running my finger over its petals before turning to him. He looks down, hands clasped between his knees and sadness taking over his expression. By his reaction I figure I probably shouldn't have asked.

"That's a story for another day" he replies, and I decide not to question him further.

"So, what did you have in mind for tonight?" I ask, changing the subject and going over to sit next to him, the mattress sinking under my weight.

He leans back casually, propping himself up with one arm. I try not to stare at the way his bicep tenses, the thin material of his shirt doing little to hide his toned stomach, his sharp jaw shifting as...