Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 91

Chapter 91

Noah

By the time I made it back to the dorm, I was pale as a ghost, soaked in sweat, and shaking so hard my teeth wanted to chatter. I’d walked the whole way- miles of cracked sidewalks and dark streets, replaying the same goddamn moment until it hollowed me out. His voice, sharp as steel, telling me to leave. Telling me there was nothing between us but a contract.

Fucking bullshit.

When I finally reached the building, a cluster of guys were hanging out on the stoop with a cooler, Friday night beers in hand, laughing about something I didn’t have the energy to care about. One of them looked up when I passed.

“Blake, you look like shit, dude. Partying hard?”

The others laughed, lifted their beers in invitation. I forced a smirk that probably looked like a grimace. “Nah. I’m good.” My voice cracked on the lie. I waved them off and pushed inside before they could read me further.

The second I stepped into my room, it hit me-he was everywhere.

Aiden’s damn jazz book was still on my desk. I snatched it up like it had burned me and shoved it into a drawer. But there it was-the contract-mocking me, folded neatly in the corner like it hadn’t just detonated my life.

I threw myself onto the bed, laptop open, ready to drown in something mindless. But the first thing that popped up was some cooking site I’d been trying to learn from. I stared at it for half a second before slamming it shut. Who the hell cared about recipes now? My eyes skated the room instead, desperate and furious. My gear dumped in the corner. His T-shirt draped over my chair. The massage book he’d told me to read. Even my clothes still smelled like him.

And me-my own fucking body-was branded. My chest, my thighs, my wrists, pierced nipples still aching from his claim. Every bruise and mark a reminder of what I’d let him do-what I’d begged him to do.

“He’s every-fucking-where!” I snarled, my fist connecting with the wall before I could stop myself. Pain exploded across my knuckles, but it was better than the burn in my chest.

Enough. To hell with him. To hell with all of it.

The guys outside were still laughing, still living in a world where none of this mattered. I grabbed a beer from their cooler without asking, cracked it open, and sank onto the steps with them.

1 tipped it back, letting the bitter wash scorch my throat. To hell with you, asshole.

The beer hit harder than I expected, fizz burning up my nose. I coughed, laughed it off like I meant to, and one of the guys slapped my shoulder.

“Lightweight,” he teased.

“Fuck off,” I shot back, managing half a grin. Fake. Everything felt fake.

The door creaked, and a few girls wandered out from down the hall, giggling as they joined the circle. One plopped onto the step beside me, her knee brushing mine. She smelled like vanilla and vodka, the kind of easy sweetness that should’ve lit me up. A month ago, it would’ve.

“Hey, Blake,” the purred, smiling coyly. “You look like you need this more than anyone.” She pressed a fresh beer into my hand, her fingers lingering.

I smirked on reflex, the way I’d done a hundred times before. But my chest was hollow. She leaned closer, her shoulder warm against me, and all I felt was the wrongness of it. Not bad-just… empty.

Miguel came onto my radar, and I greeted him with exaggerated enthusiasm.

He responded with a bow. “Holy fuck! Look who’s delighting us with his presence… Mr. Noah Blake.”

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Chapter 91

“The one and only,” I smirked, raising my bottle.

The girl laughed, her hand brushing my thigh as she leaned in closer. Her perfume was vanilla and something sharper, her hair soft as it fell across my arm. Objectively? She was gorgeous. Long legs tucked under her, lips glossy, eyes batting up at me like I was the only one here, and those incredible boobs poking out of her tight top.

And hell, I noticed. Of course I noticed. I wasn’t blind. She had that kind of beauty that had always made it easy-girls like her had always wanted me, and I’d always wanted them. Simple, fun, trouble-free. When it turned messy, I moved on. There were always more.

I could have anyone. Any girl here, any girl on campus. That had always been enough.

So why the fuck wasn’t it now?

She edged closer, tilting her head like she was waiting for me to kiss her. My chest tightened. I leaned in-just a little-and my mind spun.

This should be it. This should work. Girls loved kissing me. Plenty still would. Girls liked the feelings, the drama, the pulling shit out of you you didn’t even know you had. Guys? Guys liked it easy. No strings. Fuck and forget.

So why the hell had I kissed him, and why was I dying for him to want to kiss me back and give me all the strings I usually ran from? Why the fuck did I want it all from Aiden-from a man!—so bad it ached when I could barely breathe sitting here beside a perfectly gorgeous girl who was literally begging me with her eyes?

Her hand slid higher on my thigh, nails dragging slowly, her lips parting like she was about to close the gap. My body should’ve lit up. It always had before. I should’ve been hard already, twitching to drag her onto my lap.

But nothing.

Nothing except the way my gut twisted at the memory of him. His voice, low and rough, calling me good boy. His hands pinning me. The way just one word from him had me throbbing, aching, begging.

I swallowed hard, panic flickering through me. Was I losing my mind? Had he brainwashed me somehow?

I wanted girls. I still wanted girls-I could see that in how beautiful she was, how every curve of her body screamed temptation. So what the fuck did it mean that the only man I’d ever wanted was the only one I couldn’t stop wanting?

Was that bisexual? Could you even call it that if you liked every girl but only one man?

Her lips were almost on mine, and I let them get close-closer-because maybe if I just kissed her, maybe if I proved it to myself, I’d feel normal again.

I was about to give in when the loud chime of my phone startled us. Pulling away, I checked the screen-his name popping up.

>We need to talk.

My heart thundered inside my chest, alcohol fanning every emotion into a storm.

Oh no, you don’t. You kick me out, and now you wanna talk?

After a second of hesitation, I gave him the only response I had left.

>Fuck you, Aiden.

But I was the one who got fucked, because after that text, every chance of moving on and pretending to be my old self went out the window.

I muttered an apology to no-name girl and knocked back the rest of my beer in one go, the fizz burning down to my gut. “Another,” I growled, shoving the empty into the cooler and walking back to my friends.

Within seconds, Miguel’s arm was around me, flirty as hell but safe. The night blurred after that, the edges fuzzed by alcohol, anger, and unbearable pain…

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Chapter 91

But I’d be damned before I crawled back to his feet. If he ever wanted me back, he was gonna have to kiss my ass this time.

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Crossing Lines