ep 4 flirting

The soft click of the lock sent a thrill through Noah’s spine. It wasn’t fear—not exactly—but something close. A sharp awareness that he was standing on the edge of something he didn’t fully understand.

Oliver leaned back against the bar, swirling the whiskey in his glass. He looked calm, unbothered, like he hadn’t just locked them in together at nearly one in the morning.

“Drink?” he offered.

Noah hesitated before nodding. “Sure.”

Oliver poured him a glass, sliding it across the counter. Their fingers brushed, and Noah hated how much he noticed.

He took a sip—smooth, smoky, expensive. Definitely not what he was used to.

Oliver watched him, head tilting slightly. “So. Tell me, Noah.”

Noah swallowed. “Tell you what?”

Oliver tapped a slow rhythm against the glass. “What is it you’re looking for?”

Noah exhaled, leaning against the bar. “You always talk like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re in a movie,” Noah said, smirking. “All mysterious older man with secrets.”

Oliver chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe I do have secrets.”

Noah arched a brow. “Yeah?”

Oliver held his gaze. “Would that scare you?”

Noah’s stomach twisted. Not from fear. From something else entirely.

“No,” he said, quiet but certain.

Oliver studied him, eyes unreadable. Then, with slow precision, he set his glass down and stepped around the bar.

Noah’s breath hitched as Oliver closed the space between them, stopping just close enough.

“Good,” Oliver murmured. “Because I don’t think you scare easily.”

Noah’s heart pounded. He could smell Oliver’s cologne now—warm, deep, intoxicating. He should have been nervous. He was nervous. But he refused to be the first to look away.

Oliver reached out, his fingers brushing the edge of Noah’s jacket, like he was testing something. “You sure you’re not playing a game, Noah?”

Noah swallowed hard. “What if I am?”

Oliver smirked. “Then you should know…” He leaned in, voice just above a whisper.

“I don’t lose.”

Noah barely had time to breathe before Oliver pulled away, stepping back with infuriating ease, as if nothing had happened at all.

The air between them was charged, but Oliver only grabbed his drink again, smirking against the rim of his glass.

“Finish your whiskey,” he said smoothly. “Then I’ll walk you home.”

Noah exhaled slowly, trying to calm his racing pulse.

He should’ve known—Oliver was playing a game.

The real question was… who was going to win?

Noah finished his drink, but the warmth spreading through him had nothing to do with the whiskey.

Oliver didn’t touch him again, didn’t lean in the way he had before—but the air between them was charged, thick with something neither of them was willing to name yet.

When Noah set his empty glass down, Oliver straightened and grabbed his coat. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you home.”

Noah followed him outside, the cold night air biting at his skin. The city was quieter at this hour, the streetlights humming softly above them.

They walked in silence at first. Noah stole glances at Oliver, watching the way he moved—slow, deliberate, like he had nothing to prove but everything under control.

“You always walk people home after giving them drinks?” Noah finally asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Oliver smirked. “Only the ones who don’t belong in a bar like mine.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “You keep saying that like I’m a lost puppy.”

Oliver hummed. “Not lost. Just…” He glanced at him. “Uncertain.”

Noah scoffed. “You don’t even know me.”

Oliver slowed his steps slightly, looking at him with something unreadable in his gaze. “Don’t I?”

Noah opened his mouth to argue, but something about the way Oliver was looking at him made his thoughts scatter.

He turned away instead, focusing on the sidewalk ahead. “You always talk in riddles?”

Oliver chuckled. “Only when I’m trying to be polite.”

Noah narrowed his eyes. “And if you weren’t?”

Oliver stopped walking.

Noah barely had time to react before Oliver reached out, his fingers gently curling around Noah’s wrist, stopping him mid-step.

“If I weren’t,” Oliver murmured, voice lower now, “I’d tell you exactly what I think.”

Noah’s breath hitched. The grip on his wrist wasn’t tight—it was barely a touch—but it sent a shiver up his spine.

He swallowed hard. “Then tell me.”

Oliver watched him for a long moment, his thumb brushing once—just once—against the inside of Noah’s wrist.

Then he let go.

“You’re too young for me, Noah.”

The words weren’t cruel. They weren’t even dismissive. They were… tired. Like Oliver had already decided the answer for both of them.

Something sharp settled in Noah’s chest. “You’re the one who gave me your number,” he pointed out.

Oliver’s lips quirked in something almost like regret. “I know.”

Noah clenched his jaw. “So what was all that back there? At the bar?”

Oliver exhaled slowly. “A mistake.”

Noah hated how much that stung.

He took a step back, forcing a smirk onto his lips. “Then maybe you should stop making them.”

Oliver didn’t reply. He just watched as Noah turned and walked away, heart pounding, hands clenched.

He had wanted Oliver to stop him.

But he didn’t.

to be continued

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