Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 265

Chapter 265

I edged closer, close enough that no one passing by could overhear what I was about to say. My hand brushed against his—not enough to be noticed by anyone else, but enough for him to feel. I slipped the hotel room key card gently into his palm.

“Go celebrate with them first,” I whispered, my voice low, steady, and full of meaning. “And then…”

I hesitated for a moment.

“Come celebrate with me.”

His fingers closed around the card tightly.

His breath caught in his throat.

His eyes told me everything—they said yes.

And just like that, it was enough to breathe life back into me.

*****

The celebration was a whirlwind of noise and movement in every direction. The school had commandeered a hotel ballroom, and it felt like half the state had gathered to witness Noah being crowned champion. Music thumped through the air, champagne corks popped, and fans and players shouted in overlapping waves of excitement. Everyone wanted a piece of him—photos, hugs, hands slapping his shoulders in admiration. He was radiant, flushed and exhausted, glowing from the attention.

I lingered nearby, close enough to watch him, yet far enough to remain unseen.

Lexie occasionally held his hand. It was a gesture for the cameras, for the story they all wanted to believe—the narrative the world expected. She smiled at him like she truly thought she was part of his triumph, and he returned the smile because he was a good man. A kind man. I doubted either of them fully understood how deeply that kindness could sting.

I longed to approach him.

To touch him.

To whisk him away from all of them.

But I held back.

Because tonight belonged to him.

And loving him meant letting him bask in his moment.

The sudden quiet hit me like dropping sharply from a great height.

The hotel room was dimly lit, the city’s glow spilling through a narrow gap in the curtains. I took a shower, then sat on the edge of the bed, letting the night’s noise fade through the walls until it was nothing more than a distant vibration. The echoes of cheering still reverberated in my mind. I could still see him crossing that end zone, victorious.

And I waited.

“Noah,” I murmured, my voice low because it had to be. “I am so proud of you. I don’t even know how to—”

I never finished the sentence.

He kissed me—hard, sudden, and certain—like every mile we’d traveled to get here was burning behind us. His hands tangled in my hair, cupped my jaw, pulling me closer as if starving for this moment. I kissed him back just as fiercely, clutching his waist and back, holding him close enough to feel every shaky breath he took.

There was no caution left.

No distance.

No pretending.

Just us, meeting in the dark, as if gravity had finally done its job.

When he broke away for air, our foreheads rested together, breaths uneven, lips still brushing as if neither of us could bear to stop.

Outside that door, the world no longer existed.

Tonight, there was only this.