Re: [Outside the Rec Center.]
I wouldn't say Noah was particularly conscious of the fact that Holly needed distance to distance. I wouldn't say that he was trying to game this reaction by cropping back up like a stupid and stubborn weed under a crushing boot. He didn't necessarily realize that, if he just didn't give Holly time, Holly couldn't recover and he, Noah, would get what he wanted. Maybe he knew, in some way. Maybe he read and felt what Holly felt, and maybe it informed his actions, but if it did, he wouldn't have been able to say it. All it seemed like to him was that he wanted to talk to Holly, he wanted to be around him, and, even when he knew it'd be more, like, respectful to stfu, he didn't and couldn't. He came back because it was what he wanted, not because it would net him anything. Machination like that was beyond someone like Noah. So, maybe he should've let Holly deal with his conflicting emotions and backed tf off, but, he was kind of struggling with that idea—and that reality.
However Holly would've felt without an alcohol-sodden night of sex, just after an emotional, angry motel visit—Noah couldn't say. But, he did know that, whatever the circumstances that led them here, Holly was happy he was here and, maybe it was stupid, but that was enough for now. Maybe it didn't bode well, but Noah didn't see that. He was close to Holly, who was close to him, and, no, he definitely hadn't showered. Sweat dried and evaporated and clung to his skin, dried, evaporated, clung. He was probably fairly ripe, but whatever. He'd brushed his teeth, so Holly could be glad for that, and for the lingering, limned taste of banana as the kiss cut to tongue.—Noah let his hands hold on Holly's hips when they were set there, even going so far as to bunch up in fabric. But, really, it was the swipe of tongue (coupled with the eruption of Holly's butterflies) that made his breath hitch, and he really wasn't prepared for it to stop there.
"Huh?" Holly pulled back, broke it, and spit was on Noah's lips as they stayed stupidly parted. He blinked at Holly. He didn't think he'd done anything wrong, because he hadn't felt any sharp emotion, but he was confused. Holly took a step back and Noah let himself lean back against the side of the Jeep with some drama, an exaggerated resignation, his head hitting the metal in a way that didn't feel very good. He didn't react to it. He just looked at Holly, who was looking at him. Noah let his hands hang. He would've put them in his pockets, but this was Holly's, like, perusal, right? So, he left them and chewed on his bottom lip that bore the vague taste of citrus now.
Obviously, he could sort of sense what was going on over there, but still, he asked: "What're you thinking?"