Summer

Chapter 10

Why is it that every time I'm trying to have a moment to myself, this asshole has to get in my way?

I turn to my right to find Noah leaning against the brick wall, smoking a cigarette. He's wearing fitted grey jeans and a loose sleeveless white t-shirt that drops in the armholes, which complements his toned arms. Tucked inside his shirt is a thin silver chain necklace, which is the only piece of jewelry he's wearing besides a watch on his left wrist. His short wavy hair is more gathered than it was the other day, and I can't get over how handsome he looks. Or how nervous he's making me.

"I just needed some fresh air," I tell him honestly, trying my hardest to keep my tone straight-forward and not flirty in the slightest bit.

"Ah. That's usually code for: this party fucking sucks," he teases. It's nice to see him cracking jokes instead of throwing insults. I know it won't last long, though, so I accept his attempt at humor while I still can.

"I'm having fun. I'm just not used to this kind of party," I admit.

"This kind of party?" he chuckles before tipping his head at me. "Where are you from anyways?"

"Connecticut. We're just here for the summer."

"We?" Noah asks before releasing another puff from his cigarette. Normally, the cloud of smoke overtaking the air right now would piss me off, but I'm, surprisingly, not bothered by it.

"My brothers and I."

"I see," he nods; his ocean-blue eyes piercing into me like he's taking in everything about me.

"Why Charleston?" he continues to probe, and I'm flattered that he wants to know more. But I'm also expecting his mean streak to kick in soon. He's been his version of nice for way too long now. Let me reiterate that: his version of nice.

"We have family down here, and, I don't know, wanted something more low-key I guess." I fidget with my gold lock necklace as he continues to study me. He nods but doesn't say anything, so I shift the focus onto him, hoping that we can maintain this somewhat civil conversation for the time being. "I take it you're from here?"

"Born and raised," he nods.

"Is this what you guys do for fun? You know, house parties and all?"

He chuckles as he releases a breath. "Silly me," he says, his tone full of obnoxious sarcasm. "I almost forgot. They don't have keg stands at the country club, do they?"

"Don't pretend like you know anything about me, okay?" I snipe, and suddenly, the vibe has shifted, just like I knew it would eventually.

"Who's pretending? I know all about your kind."

"My kind?" I repeat, squinting my eyes at him. "Enlighten me, Noah. What is my kind exactly?"

"You know...daddy runs his own fancy business, mommy hasn't struggled a day in her life, brothers make it seem like they have responsibilities, when really, all they've done is screwed around because they know that their futures are set. And you," he pauses as he studies me, "well...you try so hard to be this proper, good, innocent girl, when really, all you want is a taste of freedom, a step on the wild side, if you will."

"What? You think because you snooped around my journal, you suddenly have the answers to my life? Wrong. Try again."

"Trust me, your pathetic journal doesn't give away the obvious. They're only words, Sophia. Only words."

"Fine," I lift my palms up and surrender. "I give up. Go ahead and judge away. If that's what makes you feel better about yourself."

"Who's judging? If you're rich, flaunt it. I know I would if I were in your shoes." He takes the cigarette pack from his pocket and pulls out another stick. "Want one?"

"I don't smoke," I annoyingly state. I hate that I'm still irrefutably attracted to him, even though he's getting under my skin. I'm trying to remind myself that he's a cocky prick who hooks up with a different girl every week, but my heart doesn't care.

He takes one more hit of his cigarette before putting it out, and moves towards me so that there's barely any space between our bodies. "You don't smoke, you don't party. What else don't you do?"

I find myself too distracted by his proximity to respond. He takes my silence as an opportunity to get even closer, and places his thumb on my chin to bring my mouth in. Naturally, I'd swat his hand away so fast that he wouldn't even know what hit him, but part of me hopes that he'll kiss me. The other part, though — the fearful part — hopes that he doesn't.

Who am I kidding? I can't deny the magnetic rush that pulses through my body when he's near. I'm fully aware that his presence clouds my judgement.

Our lips are about to collide when I suddenly come to my senses and pull back.

"I...I have to go," I falter, taking a few steps back.

"I guess you don't kiss either," he says as I make my way to the sliding door. I keep my fingers on the handle, but turn back to face him.

"Not strangers," I state.