Meet Me Where the Oak Tree Grows novel Chapter 41

"Did it hurt?"

I was in too much pain to get a word out.

After a bit, the motorcycle pulled over to the side of the road. Jonah took off his helmet and, seeing my tears, got even more flustered. "Where did you get hit just now?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. It was like someone had stripped away my defenses, leaving me raw and vulnerable. A sudden wave of embarrassment and sensitivity washed over me.

His voice grew more urgent. "Talk to me."

His intense gaze felt like it was putting me on the spot, like I was being roasted over a fire.

A flush crept up my cheeks. I closed my eyes and, in a moment of desperation, blurted out, "My chest! I hit my chest, alright?"

He was taken aback, realizing something, and silently turned away, putting his helmet back on.

In an awkward tone, he mumbled, "Uh, I didn't mean to."

For the rest of the ride, I learned my lesson and held on tight to his waist. But maybe it was the heat because my arms felt like they were in an oven.

At West High, a prestigious school that drew top students from everywhere, people cared more about who excelled in academics than forming cliques or bullying.

Here, no one bullied or isolated me. I was just another student with a couple of friends to hang out with, and I got along well with my roommates. We’d occasionally gossip, and early romances were always a hot topic.

When I sat across from him at meals, I slowed down, fumbles with my fork, and looked away first to pretend I was composed after our eyes met.

When I sat next to him studying, I lost focus, my mind wandered, and after sneaking glances at his hands, I remebered every detail of his knuckles.

When we chatted on the couch, I fell silent after we agreed on something, my heartbeat synced with his, and I felt his presence wrap around me, causing my temperature to rise.

When I sat on the back of his motorcycle, my grip around his waist went tentative, I struggled to answer when he asked if I missed him, and trembled with nervousness when saying goodbye, afraid of making a fool of myself.

It was the frequent daydreaming, the secret observation and mimicry, the sudden stammering, the pretense of indifference, and the longing that persisted day and night when we were apart.

I felt like I was gradually losing control.