Noah felt stupid carrying two pizzas and wandering through the rows of trailers listening for the sounds of a party. He wasn’t even sure what had made him decide to come. Besides the fact that Sara was at her mother’s, and he was currently in limbo after submitting over a dozen aid applications and facing an evening of small talk in his own living room with a basketball game on.

Besides, Drake had insisted. And the truce was still on. And, if Noah was being completely honest with himself, he wanted to see Cat again. She’d kissed him today, knowing it was him. And though it had been the kind of kiss she’d just given her sister-in-law, it had stirred his blood yet again. And he’d left before he could yank her out of Drake’s arms and resume their alleyway make-out session.

So here he was, standing outside a monstrous RV that sounded like it was hosting a frat party and debating if he should knock.

He gave the door a kick with his foot.

“Noah,” Henry, glass of red wine in hand, greeted him warmly when he pried open the inner door. “Come join the festivities.”

He was relieved of the pizzas and handed a beer in the span of three seconds before Drake dragged him into the fray.

“Hey, man. Good to see you.”

“Thanks for the invite.” It was a chaotic circus inside the trailer. There were twenty people crammed into the kitchen/dining/living space. All laughing and talking at the same time. It felt like he’d just walked in on someone’s raucous family dinner.

He flashed back to his mother’s quiet, stifling Thanksgiving meals. As much as it crushed him to be without Sara on the holiday, he’d been the one to suggest that Mellody take Sara to her family’s meal. At least Sara wouldn’t have the same childhood shadows that he had.

“Guys, do you all know Noah?” Drake yelled above the general volume.

“Hi, Noah!”

“Hi… everyone.” He raised his beer.

“Noah’s turn to give a toast to Cat!” A girl with cotton candy pink highlights—dear lord, please don’t ever let Sara meet this woman—clapped her hands together.

He spotted her then. Crammed in between production and construction crews at the dining table, laughing. She’d washed off the camera makeup and, barefaced, looked so pretty he wondered why she ever bothered covering it all up. She was wearing a long-sleeve Kings Construction t-shirt that had seen at least a million washings. Her hair, still holding the curl from shooting was pulled into a high ponytail.

The joy he’d seen exploding out of her this afternoon was still there crackling visibly under the surface. It had been something to behold. Noah wasn’t used to over emotional reactions to anything… unless they originated from a twelve-year-old who thought he was being “soooo unfaaaaair.”