Chapter 196

Chapter 196
Stella:

I should have taken it. I should have walked back with Emily, maintained the distance, kept up the pretense.

Instead, I heard myself say, "I'll stay a few more minutes. The fresh air is nice."

Emily shrugged, already heading back toward the trail. "Suit yourself. Don't stay out too late. Zoe's planning an early dinner."

We watched her go, neither of us moving until she disappeared around the curve of the coastline.

Then we stood there in the afternoon sun, surrounded by tide pools and the rhythmic crash of waves, and didn't say anything at all.

---

The silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we couldn't say. Everything we couldn't do.

Out here, we were still visible from the trail. Still in a public space. Still playing our roles.

But we were alone.

Noah moved first, walking toward a larger pool further from the path. I followed, my shoes crunching on the barnacle-covered rocks. We stopped at the edge of the water, and for a long moment, we just stood there, looking at anything except each other.

"You've been tense all morning," Noah said finally, his voice low.

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the sun. "Can you blame me?"

"Last night was close." He turned to face me, and the look in his eyes made my breath catch. "I know."

I wanted to tell him that close didn't even begin to cover it.

That I'd spent the entire night lying awake, replaying the moment when Zoe had walked in and found him in my cabin. That I'd been running scenarios in my head ever since, trying to figure out what she suspected and how much longer we could keep this up.

But the words stuck in my throat.

"I'm sorry I put you in that position," Noah said quietly.

I shook my head. "You didn't. I did. I could have sent you away when you knocked on the door."

"But you didn't."

"No." I met his eyes. "I didn't."

The admission hung between us, fragile and dangerous.

Noah looked out at the horizon, his jaw tight.

"When we get back to St. Claire... I have something I need to tell you. Not now. Not here. But soon."

My heart stuttered. "Noah—"

"It's not bad," he said quickly. "At least, I don't think it is. But it's important. And I need you to hear it when we're not pretending to be something we're not."

I didn't know what to say to that.

Didn't know how to process the weight in his voice or the careful way he was choosing his words. So I just nodded, my throat tight.

In the distance, I heard Zoe calling our names.

Noah's shoulders tensed, and without another word, we turned and started back toward the trail.

The careful distance reasserted itself, that invisible barrier that kept us from getting too close, from touching, from being anything more than a professor and her student enjoying an afternoon at the tide pools.

---

By the time we reached the campsite, I'd locked my expression back into professional neutrality.

Zoe was already breaking down the tents with Emily, directing operations with the efficiency of someone who'd done this a hundred times before.

"There you are," she said when she saw us. "I was starting to think you'd been swept out to sea."

"Just lost track of time," Noah said easily, already moving to help with the gear. "Sorry."

She didn't answer immediately, just handed him a collapsed tent pole and gestured toward the car. But I caught the way her eyes lingered on both of us, that calculating look that made my stomach drop.

I busied myself with my own belongings, hyper-aware of every interaction, every glance, every word.

The afternoon stretched on in a haze of forced normalcy, all of us playing our parts. The responsible professor. The helpful student. The protective sister. The oblivious friend.

When Zoe suggested one last cookout before we left, using up the remaining food supplies, I couldn't think of a single reason to refuse.

"Actually," Noah said, straightening from where he'd been coiling rope, "why don't we do something different? There's a spot upstream where the fishing's supposed to be good. We could catch something fresh for dinner."

Zoe looked skeptical. "You fish?"

"Dad used to take me," Noah said with a shrug. "Not often, but I remember enough."

Emily perked up. "That actually sounds fun. Better than another round of hot dogs."

I kept my expression carefully neutral, but something in my chest loosened slightly. Fishing meant movement, activity, a reason for all of us to spread out along the riverbank instead of sitting in a tight circle around a campfire where Zoe could watch our every interaction.

"I'm in," I heard myself say. "As long as someone else baits the hooks."

Noah's eyes met mine for a fraction of a second, and I saw the ghost of a smile. "Deal."

---

An hour later, we were scattered along a bend in the river where the water ran slow and deep.

Zoe had claimed a spot on a fallen log, her line cast out into the current with the focused intensity she brought to everything. Emily sat nearby, more interested in taking pictures of the scenery than actually catching anything.

Noah had wandered upstream, far enough that I could barely see him through the trees.

Far enough that it wouldn't look suspicious if I happened to end up in the same general area.

I picked my way along the bank, my borrowed fishing rod feeling awkward in my hands. The late afternoon sun filtered through the redwoods, turning everything golden and hazy. The air smelled like pine and river water and the faint smoke from someone's campfire downstream.

When I rounded the bend, Noah was there, standing knee-deep in the shallows with his line cast out toward a pool beneath an overhanging branch.

He glanced up as I approached, and for a moment, neither of us said anything.

"Any luck?" I asked finally, keeping my voice low.

"Not yet." He reeled in slowly, checking his bait. "You?"

"I don't actually know what I'm doing."

"I noticed." There was warmth in his voice, the kind he couldn't use around the others. "Come here. I'll show you."

I hesitated, glancing back toward where Zoe and Emily were visible as distant figures downstream.

"They can't see us from there," Noah said quietly. "The trees are in the way."

He was right. The curve of the riverbank and the thick growth of alders created a natural screen. We were hidden, at least for the moment.

I waded out to where he stood, the cold water seeping through my shoes. Noah moved behind me, his hands coming to rest lightly on my arms as he adjusted my grip on the rod.

"Like this," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "Feel the weight of the line. You want to cast it out smooth, not jerky."