I've never felt this weak in my entire life. My knees were trembling, my palms sweaty, and my heart racing like I'd just run a marathon. Noah had left, but his words stuck with me like an echo I couldn't shake.
Then there was Yuri, talking to me, but his voice barely registered over the whirlwind of thoughts in my head. I couldn't focus. How could I?
Suddenly, Ashly appeared out of nowhere and snapped me back to reality with a sharp nudge.
"Hey!" she said, almost knocking me over.
Yuri chuckled, watching me got startled with amusement.
"So, this is where you've been hiding. I've been looking for you," Ashly said, her tone half-accusing.
"I t-texted y-you," I stammered, my mind still spinning from everything that had happened earlier.
"Did you? I didn't check my phone." She glanced at Yuri, her eyebrows raising in curiosity before shooting me a look that screamed 'spill the tea.'
Oh no. I knew what she was thinking, and if I told her Yuri had just asked me to prom, she'd make this an even bigger deal than it already was.
Ashly plopped down beside me, launching into a story about all the people she'd run into at the party. I tried to listen, but my mind kept wandering. Meanwhile, Yuri got caught up chatting with a few friends who came by.
"Hey, girls. Let's go. Dad's calling," Ian's voice interrupted from behind us.
Ashly stood up immediately, stretching lazily. "Really? Let's go, Sar." She gave Yuri a mischievous grin.
"Yuri, we gotta go. Ian's dad is waiting for us," I said with a polite smile. "See you around?"
"Uh… sure!" Yuri got up, looking slightly awkward as he glanced over my shoulder. I turned slightly and realized Julian was glaring at him like he wanted to set him on fire.
"By the way," Yuri said, his voice softening, "can I get your number? I'll need it for prom, of course. And don't worry about your dress—I'll handle it." He pulled out his phone, waiting.
"Oh! Sure," I said, my voice trembling slightly as I gave him my number. I was taken aback by his offer to take care of my dress.
Part of me wanted to decline, I can buy my own dress. But I didn't want to ruin whatever plan he had in mind. Like if he wants us to have a matching outfits or something.
I glanced at Ian, who was off saying goodbye to Noah. From a distance, Noah's gaze flicked toward us, his expression unreadable. My heart jumped. Was he actually… watching me? What did it mean? I didn't want to assume anything, but my mind wouldn't stop racing.
Ashly and I stepped outside first, with Ian and Noah trailing behind, their voices carrying softly in the night. Ian's tone was loud and playful, while Noah's was quieter, more measured. I wanted to tell Ashly everything, but Noah's presence made it impossible.
The moment we got to the car, Ashly flopped into the backseat like she owned the place. I slid in next to her, while Ian opened the front passenger door. From the corner of my eye, I saw Noah laughing at something Ian said.
"Alright, bro. Happy birthday again. We're out!" Ian called, waving.
Noah nodded, giving Ian a small salute before glancing at me. That single look nearly stopped my heart. He held my gaze for just a second, but it was enough to leave me breathless. As we drove away, I couldn't stop myself—I screamed.
"What is wrong with you?" Ashly snapped, startled.
"Ash!" I grabbed her arm, nearly shaking her. "Yuri asked me to prom! But then Noah said he's going to pick me up and take me there!"
Ashly's mouth dropped open. "Wait, what? Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. Which part are we freaking out about? Yuri's prom invite, or the fact that Noah's picking you up? And WHY is Noah picking you up?"
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "I don't know! That's what makes this so confusing!"
From the front seat, Ian burst out laughing, clearly entertained by my meltdown. Meanwhile, Ashly leaned closer, her grin wide and knowing.
"This… is going to be good," she said, practically vibrating with excitement.
I smiled. That's exactly what I wanted, Ash. And you know what he said?
That month, my thoughts were consumed with what might happen at the prom.
Even though Noah and I hadn't talked about it again because of how busy he was with gigs, I felt content just supporting him. Ever since his birthday, I'd been more inspired to cheer for their band.
"Go Noah! Go Chainz!" I screamed, holding up a tarp while jumping with my clubmates.
We were at another school, attending their foundation day because Chainz had been invited to perform. Of course, we came to support them.
Every time Noah glanced up from his guitar, scanning the crowd, my heart raced. Was he looking for me? Probably not. But I cheered louder anyway, bouncing and waving the tarp like my life depended on it.
"Excuse me, miss." I heard some boys laughing nearby.
I turned to look at them immediately. One boy, who seemed younger, was scratching his head as his friends nudged him forward.
"Yes?" I raised an eyebrow, lowering the big tarp I was holding.
"Uhm, can I get your number?" The boy blushed bright red.
There were four of them, and the youngest one was the one asking. The other three were laughing in the background, and I didn't know what to say to them.
"We're playing truth or dare… and…" The boy scratched his head again.
"Hey, you're not supposed to say that!" one of his friends interjected, shaking his head.
I nodded and understood immediately.
I grabbed the Sharpie I was holding and started looking for paper. Poor kid—he might fail the dare if I didn't give him my number.
Pulling out my Sharpie, I looked around for something to write on. "Do you have any paper?" I asked, smirking.
The boy's eyes widened as if he couldn't believe I was actually going to do it. "Uh… here!" he blurted, holding out his sweaty palm.
I bit my lip, smiling and started writing my number. The dampness made it tricky, and he looked absolutely mortified seeing me struggle.
"Thanks a lot!" he said quickly, his face a deep shade of red as he spun around and retreated.
His friends burst out laughing, messing up his hair as they teased him. I just shook my head, turning my attention back to the stage.
"Wow, Sar," Tina teased beside me. "You're popular even in other schools—" Her sentence ended with a scream as she got caught up in the crowd's energy.
I glanced up at the stage and froze. Noah was looking directly at me. My heart stuttered. No way. He's probably looking at someone else, right? Maybe the person behind me.
I shook my head. That's impossible, Serena.
After their set, people lined up to meet the band, notebooks and pictures in hand, ready for autographs.
Ian and Sam enjoyed the attention, laughing and joking with the fans. Alex, ever the shy one, smiled politely as he signed. And Noah? He sat there with his usual cool expression and a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Let's get in line!" one of my friends squealed, pulling me along.
I grabbed the tarp and Sharpie, fixed my high-waisted shorts, and powdered my face. I needed to at least look presentable when I got to Noah.
When it was finally my turn, I started with Ian, whose humor was corny as always. Then Sam, who practically demanded I talk to him. Alex, as expected, was quick and quiet.
Then there was Noah.
He raised an eyebrow as I approached, and the teasing smirk he often wore disappeared.
I placed the tarp on the table and handed him the Sharpie.
"You've developed a new fetish, I see," he said casually, signing the tarp without looking at me.
"What fetish?" I asked, genuinely confused.
He looked up, his gaze locking on mine. "For those shirts." He gestured to my midriff-baring top, his jaw tightening. "You're showing way too much skin, and attracting many attention, Serena.
"It's called fashion, Noah," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady as I glanced at my outfit.
"Next, please!" someone in line called out impatiently.
I was about to step aside when Noah suddenly grabbed my waist. My breath hitched, and I nearly stumbled into him. His grip was firm, steadying me as my cheeks burned.
"W-What are you doing?" I stammered, my voice barely audible over the crowd.
He didn't answer. Instead, he pulled me closer, his hand settling on my waist as he brought the Sharpie to my stomach. My heart pounded like a drum as he started writing something, his fingers brushing against my skin.
"What are you writing?" I managed to ask, my voice shaky.
He capped the Sharpie and handed it back to me. "There," he said, his tone flat. "You can go now."
I looked down and froze. Written on my stomach, in bold letters, were the words: Noah Vander's.
My jaw dropped as I glanced up at him, but he was already signing pictures for the next fan, smiling like nothing happened.