The air between them had changed. It was no longer just hostility or forced civility—it was charged with something else, something dangerous.
Noelle felt it every time Noah looked at her for too long, his hazel eyes unreadable but filled with something intense.
She felt it in the accidental brushes of their hands, in the way his voice softened when he said her name.
It was like standing at the edge of a cliff, knowing the fall would be disastrous but unable to step away.
She should have stopped it.
But she didn't.
---
It started with a simple touch.
Noelle had been sitting on the balcony, staring at the moonlit gardens, lost in thought. She hadn't even heard Noah approach until he leaned against the railing beside her.
"You're thinking too much again," he murmured.
She smirked, though it lacked her usual sharpness. "You say that like it's a bad thing."