6 - N O A H

I reach the door of Mugs and Kisses and pause to rest. The awning shelters me from the rain as I bend over and press my hands against my knees to pant. When I turn my head to look in the window, I see both Emma and Chance staring out at me, obviously trying not to laugh. Glaring, I stand up and push open the door, ignoring the ache in my side.

"Nice face," Emma greets. "I'm having trouble deciding whether you're a watermelon or a tomato. It's pretty hard to tell."

"Shut up," I grumble, dropping my backpack on the floor with a thud and hopping up on the stool next to Chance. "You try running four miles in twenty minutes. Especially with a backpack on. I'd love to see your face after that."

She puts her hands up. "Fine, you got me. So, skipping school?" She raises her eyebrow expectantly, and Chance does the same. Except he can't raise one eyebrow by itself, so he ends up furrowing his brow in a weirdly adorable way.

I look down at my watch. "Technically, no. It ended fifteen seconds ago." I grin smugly, getting only an eyeroll from Chance in return.

"But you were skipping," he says pointedly. "You shouldn't do that."

"I only stayed so long because you said you wouldn't talk to me if I left early. But I guess I didn't have anything to worry about, right?"

He looks at me and shrugs.

"Right?" I repeat, but he doesn't answer. I frown. "Don't tell me you forgot until now. That's poor execution!" He still doesn't answer, staring blankly at my face instead. "Chance..." Then I grin. "Abb—"

"Don't." He glares at me in a harsher way than I expected, making me feel a little guilty for bringing it up again, especially after the way he reacted the last time. I hope he knows that neither I nor Emma would make fun of him for it, because it's not something that he can control. Or something that should be embarrassing at all, really. I actually like his name.

Emma giggles. "Wow, Chance, you're good! I don't know how I'd keep a straight face. Noah makes some pretty good puppy dog eyes." She turns to me. "Noah, why did you mention abs to get him to talk? That's pretty awkward."

I shake my head, deciding to play along to spare Chance the misery. "Never mind. I felt like mentioning something completely random would make him laugh or something."

That only makes Emma laugh harder. "What?" I ask, annoyed.

"When you think of something random," she says between bouts of laughter, "abs are the first thing that come to mind?"

Even though that wasn't true, I feel my face heat up anyway. "I don't know," I mutter. "I'm really tired."

She grows serious again. "I bet. You can't keep getting three hours of sleep. It's not—"

"I know it's not healthy," I groan. I know she's only telling me this because she's concerned, but I don't think she realizes how angry it makes me when she tells me that. Now that I've been reminded of my exhaustion, a wave of nausea washes over me, and I feel my control beginning to slip. "Do you think I can help it? Do you think I want to get so little sleep that I can barely stay awake in my classes? Do you think I want—"

I stop when Chance reaches out and puts his hand on my shoulder. The slight pressure calms me, sending a gentle tingling down my spine. I slowly lower my hands from where I had brought them up to rub my forehead, letting them defeatedly fall back to my side.

"I'll go get you some water and a snack," Emma says gently. "I'll be right back."

"Sorry," I mumble to Chance, getting up from the stool and shrugging off his touch. "I didn't mean—"

"I know," he says, standing up with me and placing his hand gently back between my shoulders. He pushes gently on my back and leads me to the couch. "Don't worry. You're just tired."

"That's not an excuse to get mad at you though. I'm tired of people excusing my actions because they think I'm too tired to function properly." I let out an angry sigh.

"It's not an excuse," he agrees, much to my surprise. "It's an explanation. It doesn't excuse it, but it helps me understand. Now come on, sit." When he senses my reluctance, he adds, "Now you know how I felt yesterday. You didn't hate me for it, so why should I hate you? You weren't even saying bad things about me like I was about you. You have every right to be frustrated."

I sigh, sitting down next to him and leaning back against the couch in exhaustion. "Yeah, I guess. Thanks."

He smiles. "You're welcome." Then his smile falls, replaced with panic. "Am I doing this right? I've never been in this situation before, and I have no idea what I'm doing so sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable or something, I swear I didn't mean to!"

I smile, unable to hold back a small chuckle at his look of sheer panic. He'd seemed so much more mature and collected than I had remembered, and this is a little more like how I'd expected him to act. His sudden stress is strangely endearing, and it calms me to know that he's being genuine. Not that he seemed like he was ever lying about anything, but his stress is refreshingly real. "You're doing fine," I assure him. "Thanks for calming me down. It was really helpful."

He lets out a huge sigh. "That's good," he says in relief.

The silence between us grows for a few seconds, almost to the point of being awkward. But not quite, because Emma walks over with a cup of water to save us.

"Here," she says, holding the cup out towards me. "Do you want a change of clothes? I think you have a spare pare of pajamas here. Check the guest room."

I take the cup and drink half of it before I respond. "That'd be great, thanks. Can I go upstairs and change?"

She nods. "Feel free to take a shower too if you want. And don't worry, I'll keep Chance entertained," she adds with a wink when she notices me look back at him.

I shake my head stubbornly. "I'll just change," I say, not wanting to make him wait here for longer than he already has. "I'll be right back." I turn around and race up the stairs in the back, turning sharply to the right at the top to enter the guest room.

I find my pajamas folded on the dresser as soon as I walk in and quickly change, folding my school clothes into a pile when I'm done. I love Emma, I really do—she's almost like the mom I never had, except not the one I never had because my actual mom is great. Just my mom, then? That sounds weird though, especially since she's only ten years older than me. Either way, Emma's always willing to help me, especially when I'm in a bad spot.

But there are still some things I don't want to tell her, because I don't want to make her worry more than she already does. She might not let me come out anymore if I make her worry any more than she already does, and being able to leave is one of the only things that keeps me sane.

Everyone always gets confused when I tell them that I don't have bad parents; they take my need to leave as a sign that I have family troubles at home. But I love my parents, and I'd even say that my parents are amazing, since they give me so much freedom. Everything at home is fine, except for the physical home itself, the way the walls make me feel trapped.

Gathering my clothes into my arms, I rush out of the room and head downstairs back towards Emma and Chance. I'm expecting to find them sitting on the couch talking, but instead, I find Chance sitting alone, staring at the bookshelves.

"Emma, you said you'd keep him entertained, not bore him and force him to stare at books," I accuse jokingly.

"Sorry," she calls from the kitchen. "I'm getting him lunch and making you a snack! I'll be right out."

I turn to Chance. "You haven't had lunch yet?" I ask quizzically.

He gently shakes his head. "Nope. I didn't have breakfast until close to noon."

I shake my head in mock disappointment and sit down on the couch next to him. "Are you feeling jetlagged?"

"Not really. I'm not sure why I slept in so late. I think this is the latest I've ever slept in."

"Ever?" I repeat doubtfully. "Even with all of your traveling?" When he nods, I add, "Wow. You're missing out. It's such a great feeling to wake up at three in the afternoon."

"Yeah, I guess, but doesn't it freak you out knowing you've wasted most of the day?"

"Not really. I'm awake most of the night, anyways," I say, my tone light and playful even though I'm not actually joking. And he notices; his face falls a little and he looks like he's struggling with finding something to say.

"You don't have to say anything," I say gently. "It's okay, really."

He shakes his head stubbornly. "No, it's really not. I just don't know what to do."

His distress about it is so painfully obvious that I can't help but smile. "It really is," I counter. "It's fine. You don't have to do anything. I'm used to it. The best thing you can do is probably treat me normally."

He hangs his head. "But I don't even know what that is," he says. "Normal. I don't know if you've noticed, but I have no idea what I'm doing. I never actually talk to people."

"It's okay," I reassure him again. "Really. I—"

"Here's your lunch!" Emma says, interrupting our conversation as she hands me and Chance a plate with a grilled cheese. "Enjoy!"

"Thanks," he says gratefully, taking his plate and starting to eat.

I stare at my plate skeptically and turn to Emma. "Since when do you offer grilled cheese sandwiches?"

She smacks my shoulder. "Shut up. Who says I can't?"

I raise my hands in mock surrender. "Nobody says you can't. It's just not on your menu."

Chance raises his head. "Wait, it's not on your menu? I thought you said you had grilled cheese."

"I do have it," Emma replies, grinning. "Just because it's not on the menu doesn't mean I don't have the ingredients. Now, let's stop talking about this. I don't know why you guys care so much."

"Okay," Chance agrees readily. "Oh, speaking of the menu, why is it so empty in here all of a sudden? I would've thought you'd have customers for most of the afternoon. It was really busy earlier."

"There's a soccer game this afternoon," Emma says. "The lunch rush came slightly earlier than normal for a lot of the people going to the game nearby, and then everyone else has gone back to work. It is a Monday, you know."

"Oh. I forgot." He turns to me. "What are some of the other puns for business names?" he asks curiously.

I think for a minute and then grin. "I'll tell you if you let me show you around," I reply.

After considering for a moment, he nods. "Sure. When?"

"Does this afternoon work?" I ask. "I'd have to take a short nap first, but we could still go!"

Chance looks at me doubtfully. "Maybe we should wait until tomorrow if you're this tired? I don't want to make you go if you don't feel up to it."

I shake my head. "It's not like I'll be any less tired tomorrow than I will be today. I get the same amount of sleep every night. We might as well go now if you're free."

He still looks skeptical but nods reluctantly. "Okay, I guess. I'll text my mom."

"Awesome, thanks! Does she need to know exactly where you are? If so, I can plan a route or something, but otherwise, we can just wander."

"No, it's okay. But she originally wanted me back by one and then she moved it to three but it's already three. I'll just let her know that I'll stay out longer."

"Are you sure you don't have to be home? It seems like she's trying to encourage you to go back."

"Maybe," he says, shrugging. "But I don't really want to be at home. There's nothing there yet, so it's really boring." He looks off to the side and tugs on the dark hair falling over his eyes. "Not that it's really home, but I don't know what else to call it."

I'm not really sure what to say, so I settle for nodding and try to look as understanding as possible, even though my understanding is basically nonexistent. I've never moved, after all, so I feel horribly unqualified to try and offer any consolation or advice. But I can tell he's noticed my discomfort.

"So," he says, "what's it like staying in the same house for your whole life?"

"Honestly?" I reply. "It's kind of boring. I've always wanted to move, but just, like, down the street or something. I rearrange the furniture in my room every few years to keep it from getting too boring, but sometimes I wish I could completely change houses. Just for a change of scenery." I look at him, taking in his slightly troubled expression. "Sorry, that's probably not what you wanted to hear."

He shakes his head. "That's okay. It's not that I didn't want to hear that or anything, but it's just kind of weird to think about. You said you hate how everything's the same, but I really want to get bored of a room because it'll mean that I've lived there for a long time."

Something about the longing tone of his voice makes me want to reach out to him, to put an arm around his shoulders and comfort him. His hunched shoulders, slouched back, and bowed head practically scream for some gesture of compassion. And although it crosses my mind that it might be a little weird to do, I probably would have actually reached out it if his phone hadn't vibrated right then, breaking me out of my trance.

He grabs his phone off the table and unlocks it, staring for a minute before his face breaks into a broad smile. "I can go!"

"That's great!" I reply, grinning with him. I'm excited to show him around and introduce him to all of the cool places around here. I really hope he'll like them. "I'll head upstairs and take a nap then. You can come upstairs with me if you want, or you can stay down here."

"Would it help you sleep if I went upstairs too?" he asks, then clasps his hand over his mouth as if doing that erase what he'd just said. "Sorry, was that weird? I'm not sure why I said that, I just thought that maybe you'd have trouble sleeping because you feel alone or something because sometimes, I can't sleep when I feel like that and—"

I shake my head, trying to get rid of the shocked expression that's probably plastered on my face, and smile at him reassuringly. "Don't worry about it. You're kind of right about that, anyway. It'd probably help, if you'd feel comfortable coming upstairs with me."

In all honestly, I have no idea if it will help or not—it'll either be extremely helpful or it'll make it much worse. But he looks so guilty for even asking the question that I'd feel bad about rejecting his offer. And besides, what's the harm in trying? It's not like it can get that much worse, anyway. The worst-case scenario is that I won't be able to fall asleep, and that's nothing new.

He nods, keeping his head down in an attempt to hide his blush. It makes me feel a little bad for making him so flustered, even though I didn't do it on purpose. So instead of trying to talk more, I stand up from the couch, grabbing our two plates and dropping them off on the counter on my way upstairs.

I hear his footsteps behind me as I climb the stairs and open the door to Emma's guest room. And I'm about to sit down on the bed when I hear him gently close the door. I turn around quickly.

"Can you leave that open?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, and luckily, he doesn't ask any questions. He just nods.

"Sure."

"Thanks," I say, sitting down on the bed after pulling back the covers. I lie down and pull the covers back over me, watching as Chance walks around to the other side of the bed. He pauses at the windows.

"Should I close the curtains?" he asks, waiting for me to nod before he pulls them shut and sits down on the bed.

I have to hide my smile when he waits to close the curtains before asking, because I don't want him to ask why I'm smiling. But it makes me really happy that he knows some things make me uncomfortable and wants to avoid that, and he also doesn't just force me to tell him everything. He's willing to change his actions for me without pressing me for reasons. He's making a real effort to respect whatever fuzzy boundaries I have without even knowing what they are.

I close my eyes almost as soon as he sits down, overcome with a strange sense of comfort from feeling Chance's weight on the bed next to me. I don't know whether it's him specifically or just the presence of another person, but if I had to guess, I'd say it's him. Because Emma's tried sleeping in the same room as me before, and it didn't do anything to help. And for the first time in a long time, I don't notice how small the doorway is or how imposing the walls feel. Instead, I focus on the feeling of his warmth and weight next to me as I fall asleep.