Chapter 36 Chapter 36
Emily's POV
I woke up before my alarm. I woke up this early because I wasn't well-rested, I tossed and turned the entire evening. Sleep had been shallow, fractured, and filled with moments I kept replaying whether I wanted to or not. Everything Noah did or say was on my mind, and I couldn't seem to get all of him out of my mind. The way he looked at me, and says my name. Especially the way I didn't step away soon enough. I just didn't want to and that was a huge problem, yet it didn't seem like it was.
I stared at the ceiling for a long moment, my chest tight in that quiet, persistent way that meant something had shifted and wasn’t going back. “This ends here,” I whispered to myself. I tried to tell myself that for the millionth time, but the more I said it, the more it sounded rehearsed like something I needed to believe more than something that was true.
I pushed the covers off and got up. By the time I stepped into the lounge, I had already decided how the morning would go. I will be strict and professional. There was no room for anything else nor for anything like last night.
Noah was already in the lounge. He was sitting on the floor mat, one knee bent, the other leg stretched out, rolling his shoulder slowly like he was testing it before I even told him to.
He looked up when I entered. “Morning,” he said.
“Sit up straight,” I replied. I didn't bother to greet back.
His mouth twitched slightly, but it wasn't quite a smile. But he adjusted his posture anyway. “Wow,” he murmured. “Good morning to you too.”
I ignored that. I moved past him, setting my clipboard on the table. I checked the schedule even though I already knew it by heart. “You’re starting with resistance work,” I said. “Then stabilization.”
He watched me quietly. “Got it,” he said.
I handed him the band. “Grip here. Keep your elbow aligned. Don’t compensate.”
“I know.”
“Then do it correctly.” That came out sharper than I had intended. But I didn’t take it back, because I needed that distance. I needed the edge in my voice to remain.
He started the movement slow and controlled. Exactly how I taught him. “Again,” I said. He repeated it in perfect form. “Again.”
He did as instructed. “Emily.”
“Again.” I repeated
“Emily.”
I looked up. “What?”
“You’re overcompensating.” My grip tightened slightly around the pen in my hand.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m doing my job.”
“You’re pushing harder than usual.”
“Because you can handle it.”
“That’s not the reason.”
“Yes, it is.”
“No,” he said quietly. “It’s not.” There was this uncomfortable tension between us.
“Focus on your form,” I said.
“I am focused.”
“Then stop talking.”
He didn’t respond, he just held my gaze for a second longer than necessary before returning back to the exercise. I just watched him closely. As he moved his shoulder there was tension under his skin. I noticed the subtle shift in his breathing when the muscle engaged. Everything just felt more personal now that things have shifted differently.
“Your scapula is off,” I said quickly, stepping forward before I could think about it. I moved behind him, kneeling slightly. I put one hand pressing lightly against his upper back with my other hand guiding his shoulder. “Here,” I said. “Engage this.”
He inhaled with slow and controlled breaths. His body reacted to my touch, and my body reacted right back. I swallowed, trying to focus.
“Again,” I said.
He moved better and stronger this time. I felt the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, his breath slowed when I adjusted him. I stepped back quickly, regrouping myself, taking a deep breath. “Next set,” I said.
He stood up and turned around. We were closer now. “Emily,” he said quietly.
“Start the next exercise.”
“You’re not focused.”
“I am.”
“No,” he said. “You’re avoiding me.”
My chest tightened. “I’m not avoiding anything.”
“You are.”
“I’m working.”
“You’re hiding.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“You are.”
“Stop,” I snapped, that word didn't even stop him, it didn't create the space I thought it would. But it did the opposite.
He stepped closer. There was no pretending this was normal. “Why won’t you just admit it?” he asked.
“Admit what?”
“That this changed something.”
“It didn’t.”
“It did.”
“It didn’t.”
“Emily.” He breathed. That was what broke through everything I was trying to hold together.
“This isn’t real,” I said. The words felt thinner. It felt less convincing to the both of us.
“I didn’t say it was.”
“Then stop acting like it is.”
“I’m not acting.”
“Then what are you doing?” He didn’t answer. “Continue the exercise,” I said. My voice wasn’t steady anymore and I hated that. And he saw it. He didn't move. He didn't even pick up the band or follow the instructions.
He reached out and wrapped his hand around my wrist. It wasn't forceful or rough, it was intentional... everything stopped, even the air in the room stopped. It stopped my racing thoughts too.
My breath caught. His hand was warm and firm on me. I didn’t pull away. We stood there, looking at each other. “You’re not focused,” he said again, his voice was lower this time.
“I am,” I whispered.
“No,” he said. “You’re avoiding me.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
My pulse was too loud and fast. “I’m doing my job,” I said.
“You’re pretending this didn’t happen.”
“It didn’t-”
“Emily.” I couldn’t finish the sentence, because he stepped closer, the space disappeared completely and there was nothing left to hide behind.
“You feel this too,” he said quietly.
I swallowed. “This isn’t real.” I tried hard to make this statement true.
“Then why are you shaking?” He asked.
My breath caught, because I was. I couldn’t even stop it, everything I was trying to hold together was slipping and I couldn’t fix it.
“I’m not-”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
His thumb shifted slightly against my wrist. “I should step back,” I said.
“But you’re not.”
“I will.”
“But you haven’t.”
I couldn’t think or focus. I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to say or what I was supposed to do. What the rules were again, they didn't exist here anymore. “Don’t,” I said softly.
“Don’t what?” He asked.
“Don’t make this harder.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“You’re the one fighting it.”
“Because I have to.”
“Why?” He asked.
“Because this isn’t supposed to happen.”
“Maybe it is.”
“No.” I shook my head.
“Why not?”
“Because...” I stopped. There wasn’t a good answer. Everything I had built was going down the drain.
“You’re still here,” he said.
“So are you.”
“I’m not the one pretending.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“You are.”
“Stop telling me what I feel.”
“Then tell me I’m wrong.”
I opened my mouth but nothing came out. That was the moment everything snapped.
He moved as fast as lightning. He pressed his lips against mine, my heart raced even more. It was real like something that had been building for too long and finally broke through. I didn’t move. But then I broke the kiss, I pulled back. My hand tightened slightly against his arm. My breath was unsteady. Everything inside me shifting in ways I couldn’t control.
This wasn't suppose to happen, it wasn't part of the plan.
We stared at each other like neither of us had fully caught up to what just happened. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” I said, but the words felt empty.
I didn't even regret this and there was no more going back from this. This wasn't a PR stunt or fake relationship anymore, this was actually real.