Maya POV
I needed air. I needed distance. I needed to get him out of my head.
The second I left the dance floor, I rushed through the sea of bodies and the clinking of glasses, pushing open the side doors that led to the venue’s garden terrace. The cold night air hit me like a slap—but I welcomed it.
My chest was tight, my throat dry. I couldn’t believe the way I felt. Over him. Over Noah.
I leaned against the stone railing, inhaling deeply, trying to calm the storm inside me.
And then I heard the door creak open behind me. My heart dropped. I didn’t even have to turn around. I already knew.
“Noah,” I muttered.
He walked up beside me slowly, his face unreadable, his posture tense. The glass he’d broken earlier had clearly been cleaned up, but I swore I could still feel the crack in his energy.
“You looked… cozy with James,” he said, voice low but sharp.
I stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“Why are you dancing with him?” His eyes narrowed, and something dangerous flickered in them. “Is that your type now?”
I spun toward him. “You do not get to ask me that.”
“I’m just saying—”
“No,” I cut him off. “Why are you here with Ahtisa or whatever her name is? Huh? You bring your ex to a party and then act jealous because I danced with someone who was actually nice to me?”
He didn’t flinch. “Why do you care who I bring?”
My lips parted. My chest rose and fell. “I don’t,” I lied, but my voice cracked halfway through the word.
For a moment, neither of us said anything. The silence between us was deafening, our breathing the only sound. Then Noah’s expression changed. His shoulders dropped. His voice softened—broke.
“I’ve always stepped aside for Alex,” he said quietly.
I froze.
“What?”
“I’ve always let him have everything,” he repeated, staring at the ground now. “The spotlight. The title. The love. Even when it hurt… even when I wanted to fight for it.”
I stared at him, stunned. There was something in his eyes I’d never seen before. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t smug. He looked… lonely.
Almost boyish.
“Noah…” I whispered.
He looked at me then, and the pain in his eyes made my stomach twist.
“You think I don’t care,” he said, “but I do. I just… don’t know how to show it without ruining everything.”
I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to yell. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hold him. But before I could decide, his phone buzzed.
He glanced at it—his jaw clenched—and then he looked back at me.
“I have to go.”
I blinked. “Seriously?”
“It’s Ahtisa. She—she needs something.”
Of course. Of course she does.
He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t try to explain. He just turned and walked back through the doors, disappearing into the crowd like nothing had happened.
I stared at the spot where he’d just been, my mouth still parted, my heart shattered in ways I didn’t know were possible.
And then I turned. Straight into James.
“Whoa, hey,” he said, catching me before I could stumble. “You alright?”
No. Yes. I didn’t know.
“Maya?” he asked again, gently.
I looked up at him, really looked—and all I saw was not Noah. That should’ve been a comfort. But it wasn’t.
So I did the only thing that made sense in my messy, spiraling brain. I grabbed James by the collar and pulled him down into a kiss. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow.
It was messy. Desperate. Honest.
A punch to the chest. A scream without sound. A slap to every thought of him.
James kissed me back, surprised but warm.
And for a second, just one second, I let myself drown in anything that wasn’t Noah Sterling.
Then I heard it.
Click.
The unmistakable sound of a camera shutter.
And just over James’ shoulder, I saw someone lower their phone—smirking.
Oh. No.