Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 88

Chapter 88

Noah

That night was nothing short of an emotional rollercoaster. I had been just moments away from finally sharing a real kiss with Aiden—not the fleeting pecks he gave me when shoving food into my mouth, nor the close-but-not-quite moments when he corrected my posture during practice, and certainly not those fiery, hungry kisses that led to something physical but never quite crossed the line—but a genuine, heartfelt kiss. The kind I longed for like a desperate girlfriend craving affection. And then—bam—the doorbell rang. Instant panic. My usually unshakable master turned into a statue, shoving me into the bedroom like I was some forbidden item.

For days, I had been playing a double game: the angel on the surface, the demon underneath. I tested Aiden’s limits in countless subtle ways, and each time, he pushed me back just as many.

But hey, can you really blame a guy for trying? Aiden had given me his full attention, his care, and all the essentials—both the basic and the not-so-basic. He showered me with everything except what truly mattered: the heart. And that was supposed to be enough. That was the deal, wasn’t it? The thrill of discipline, the safety of boundaries, mind-blowing sex without the messy complications of feelings. That’s what I wanted.

So why then did I keep chasing after something more? A touch that lingered a second too long, an extra moment of closeness, a damn kiss. Each time I reached out, he shut me down, and like a pathetic addict, I crawled back for another hit. Why was I humiliating myself, running after every rejection like a lovesick fool, pretending my heart wasn’t breaking in pieces?

But that night felt different. That night, I sensed he wanted it too—or maybe he always had, but this time, he was ready to give in. I could feel it. For once, he wasn’t pulling away. His hand rested on my neck, his mouth parted toward mine. He was yielding, ready to feel.

And then, just as everything was about to change, my teammate—bless his overly concerned heart—decided to play detective and ruin it all with an unplanned intervention, trying to team up with the very thing I was addicted to. Classic irony.

Keon almost caught us. Again. We might have gotten away with it if he hadn’t spotted my bike in the yard. From my spot by the bedroom window, I saw the exact moment Aiden’s stomach twisted like he was about to be sick. He looked like he was seconds from vomiting. But my Dom was quick on his feet—lying on the spot, trying to comfort the situation—because after a brief freeze, he snapped back.

“Oh, yeah, that’s Noah’s bike. Don’t worry, he’s fine. He said there was trouble with the brakes, and I offered to check it out. Turned out it was just out of brake fluid…”

They even laughed about it. Then Keon finally left, convinced he’d been overthinking things and probably feeling pretty good about himself for reaching out.

I made a mental note to thank him someday, maybe laugh about this when we were football stars and I was openly dating Aiden.

Wait… what?

Once the door clicked shut behind Keon, I slipped out of the bedroom like a kid sneaking out of detention, trying to act casual. “Wow, that was close,” I muttered under my breath, paraphrasing him. “Looks like I might be doing something ‘not good.’ Imagine that.”

I expected Aiden to crack a smile or shake his head at me like he usually did when I was being a smartass. Instead, he collapsed onto the couch as if all the air had been sucked out of him, muttering about how we’d almost been caught again. His hands rubbed his thighs nervously, his breath uneven, his face pale like someone accused of a crime they actually committed.

“Sir?” I asked softly, stepping closer. “Are you okay?”

“You don’t mean that,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “You know it’s something more, Sir… isn’t it? Please… don’t push me away.”

His jaw clenched tightly, his hands balled into fists on his knees. He wouldn’t even look at me. “I need you to leave, Noah. Leave your motorcycle here so it won’t raise suspicion.”

And just like that, the ground disappeared beneath me.

My throat burned as I silently pulled on my shorts and t-shirt, my hands trembling. I could have begged once more, humiliated myself further, but the weight in my chest told me to stop—he wasn’t going to change his mind.

“I’ll call you a taxi home,” he offered quietly.

I stopped at the door, one hand gripping the knob. “You know what?” I said, my voice raw and furious. “Don’t fucking bother… Coach.”

Then I slammed the door behind me.