The door clicked shut. The fake romance show we just put on downstairs was finally over.
Noel let go of my hand immediately. He didn't say a word to me. He just walked right past the bed and went to stand by the window, staring out into the dark, rainy garden. He didn't look mad. He just looked exhausted. The fierce guy who just threw his brother across the room to protect me was gone. Now, he was just a quiet wall.
I stood by the bed, pulling at the sleeves of my shirt.
I couldn't stop replaying the image of how he slammed that silver fork straight into the table and how he stood between me and Dylan.
A strange, warm feeling flared up in my stomach. He did all that for me, I thought.
I felt myself pulling toward him, but his distant posture reminded me of our reality.
"Noel?" I called out softly.
He didn't turn around. He kept looking out the window, resting his hand on the frame.
What was he thinking about?
