Page 11

savannah

When debating where to work on our project, Noah suggested his house, to which I replied ‘Over my dead body’ .

The Den seemed like the best place, but Noah insisted it would be too busy—and after watching the women fall all over him at the diner and every guy attempt to high-five him on our way out, I can see that what he really meant was it would be too distracting.

We eventually settled on my apartment, which, in hindsight, I guess worked out—considering he’s now forty minutes late.

I check the time on my phone once more before tossing it on the coffee table and sinking back into the couch with a deep sigh.

“Have fun on your date,” Chloe chirps as she slips her arms into her coat, fanning her long, blonde hair over the collar.

“Oops. You left your jokes in the trash. Don’t forget to grab them and take them with you on your way out.”

Her little giggle lingers as she opens the door, revealing Noah on the other side with his fist in the air ready to knock.

“The Beauty is here,” she calls over her shoulder and his smile stretches across his face .

“Very nice, Coop.” He opens his fist into a flat palm and what the hell is going on?

She high-fives him and casually shrugs. “I know some stuff.”

She slides past him and gives him a little shove inside before closing the door.

I can’t look away when Noah peels his coat off, revealing a casual grey crewneck.

He toes off his vans and pulls his beanie from his head before running one of his large hands through his dark hair, tugging the hat back down.

I thought I paced my apartment today because I was nervous about having to answer questions about myself, not because I was worried about keeping my tongue in my mouth.

It’s no secret that Noah is attractive—and by attractive, I mean sexy enough to bring even Satan himself to his knees.

With his high cheekbones and the smooth skin along his immaculate cut jawline, he is undeniably handsome.

Don’t even get me started on his soul-gripping eyes.

Once you look into the endless depths of them, you’re sucked in against your will.

They’re not hazel, but rather a soft shade of brown in the center, with an emerald green lining on the outside.

They’re the only feature that could pull me away from his perfect lips.

When they aren’t wearing that full-fledged grin that makes me have to fight not to smile myself, they’re always still lifted just enough—like he was born smiling.

Noah smirks, causing my stomach to flip and I unconsciously squeeze my legs together because that look of his is almost always accompanied by something flirty.

I’m like Pavlov’s fucking dog around him.

And then there’s the little silver hoop that hangs in his left ear.

Fuck. Me.

I don’t think I’ve ever been turned on by jewelry before, but here we are.

The weight of the couch shifts beneath me as he plops down beside me. He rests his arm casually over the back of the cushion, and sprawls out his legs comfortably in front of him.

The movement pulls me from my thoughts and I clear my throat. “Did she just call you beautiful?”

Another little smirk. “No. Beauty. It’s kind of like the good guy in hockey.”

“Oh, no,” I groan, dropping my head to the seat behind me. “You’ve got my Chloe on your ‘good guy’ agenda too?”

“Hey.” He puts his hands up, smiling. “She said it. Not me.”

I lift my head and pull one leg up onto the couch, turning to face him.

“Sorry I’m late, by the way.”

With the effortless way he came in and turned my brain to mush, I had almost forgotten.

I open my mouth, ready to give him a lesson in punctuality, but all thoughts abruptly fall away when his hand that was resting on the back of the couch reaches up to my shoulder.

His thumb strokes lazily against the soft material covering my skin and I fight like hell not to melt into the touch.

“I like this.” His voice is soft and silky.

A direct contrast to how dry my mouth is as I try to swallow past the lump in my throat. “My… shoulder?”

He doesn’t move, save for his thumb that’s still rubbing back and forth. “Well, that too, but I meant your sweater.”

Of course he did.

“I um—” I clear my throat and with it comes clarity of mind. I jump from the coach. “The table,” I blurt out.

“What?” Noah scoots to the edge of the couch, looking up at me through his lashes and—dear god, the image of him below me is unbearable.

“The table,” I repeat, pointing to the small piece of furniture behind him. “We should sit at the table.”

I slink around the couch and it takes Noah a beat longer to follow.

The small round table and chairs are still practically brand new, since Chloe and I eat every meal and do most of our school work on the couch.

I move the vase of artificial flowers and the fruit bowl, which contains my last two oranges, a s’mores Pop-tart, and a discarded Sharpie.

I sit down and motion for him to follow, and run my damp palms down the front of my jeans. He plants both hands flat on the table, and I’m trying to focus on anything else besides his face, but I don’t miss the slight wince in his eyes as he sits down.

“How long has your aunt been teaching this course?”

“Umm.” I purse my lips, thinking. “I feel like she’s been teaching my whole life, but at LCU? Probably, like, five years.”

“What’s she like?”

Like my mom. The spitting image, which makes sense, considering they’re twins.

They’re exactly the same in every way that matters.

No one on the planet has bigger hearts or louder laughs.

Their only differences lay with their families.

My mom chose to get married and have twins of her own, while Aunt Lo chose to live a single, child-free life.

“Is that a question on the sheet?” I ask, avoiding the thoughts that are now swirling.

“Nah, I just wanted to know how seriously she grades.” He winks and I relax a little in my chair.

“Alright, so how do you want to do this? I ask a handful of questions and then you get to go? Or do you want to go back and forth?”

I shift a little in my seat, looking over at his papers. Between getting ready this morning and playing the waiting game, I somehow misplaced my copy. “I guess back and forth, so that we’re never in the hot seat too long?”

“Cool.” He rubs his hands together and cracks his knuckles. “Let’s get into some hard-hitting questions here.”

Prior to losing my packet, I spent the last two days going over some of the questions—and while sharing that my favorite meal is fried chicken and waffles doesn’t seem difficult, other questions, like my favorite memory from childhood, feel almost unbearable.

Noah clears his throat, holding an invisible microphone to his mouth. “Ms…”

Perfect. I already want to deny his questions and we haven’t even started yet. If he hasn’t put two and two together yet about who my dad is, I’m not going to be the one to do it for him. Instead, I roll my eyes and answer, “Savannah.”

“Really? You’re not going to give me your last name?” He asks, covering the head of his invisible microphone. “Alright, Ms. Savannah, what is… a movie you could watch every day?”

“That’s the hard-hitting question?”

“It seems like a safe enough place to start.”

I smile and sink back into my chair. He can either sense my hesitation or he’s nervous himself. Either way, I’m grateful.

“ Twilight. ”

“Twi—” His chin juts out before he falls over on the tabletop, dramatically.

“Don’t.” I hold up a hand. “Hating on Twilight isn’t cool anymore.”

He pulls himself up, resting his elbow on the table and the side of his face in his hand. “I mean, for a movie you could watch every day, I would think you would go for a classic, but okay— Twilight. ” He clicks his pen and scribbles on his paper.

“Edward getting out of the car in his Ray-Bans just does something to me, alright?”

His answering laugh annoys me.

“Okay, Mr. Kingston,” I mock him. “What movie could you watch every day? ”

“Easy. Mighty Ducks.” He holds up his index and middle finger. “Two.”

“Wow,” I deadpan. “A true classic.”

I open my laptop, and the light in the corner flashes red. “Could you hand me that charger?” I point to the kitchen island just behind him.

He reaches for the cord, but it’s painfully slow and strained.

“You alright there, Champ?”

“Yeah, just a little sore from practice.”

“You still get sore?” My eyes narrow as I plug in my computer. “I mean, you do this every day. Don’t you have your recovery down or whatever? Magnesium and all that jazz?”

He leans back in the chair, mouth twitching. “All that jazz?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” He covers a yawn. “I just had to do a little extra work last night… and again this morning.”

I might not ever go to the arena, but I do know my dad’s schedule pretty well. I also know that if he had practiced with my dad this morning and told him he had an assignment to work on, he wouldn’t have been late.

“Do you want something to drink?” I stand, heading to the kitchen.

“Just a water would be great, thanks.”

With his back to me, I steal a moment to watch him. His sweater is loose, but I can make out the way his back muscles flex beneath the fabric, and now that I think about it, he had a slight stiffness about him when he walked in, too.

I open my water bottle and grab a glass for him before turning to find Noah rubbing his neck and upper back.

His fingers sneak under his collar and dig heavily into his skin.

A sigh falls from his lips, and I can’t stop myself from imagining my own fingers roaming over his body.

I imagine his skin is warm and the muscles are taut.

I imagine dragging my fingers through his hair, lightly scratching down his neck, rubbing my palms over the smooth planes of his shoulders, and the electricity that would run through my hands as I dragged them down the front of his bare chest. Suddenly, he’s holding himself up on top of me, the weight of his body nestled between my legs. I feel him everywhere.

“Easy there, messy.” That husky voice crashes down on me like a whip, causing me to jolt.

“What?”

He nods his head, eyes pointing to the counter where I’ve just overfilled the cup and water is now dripping off my countertop.

I duck down, dragging a kitchen towel through the puddle, reminding myself who I was just fantasizing about.

My relationship with this hockey player starts and ends with this project.

“Sorry about that.” I place the full cup of water in front of him and sit back down.

“No worries.”

I take a breath, hoping it will calm me down.

“You bring that thing with you everywhere?”

“What?”

“You always have it in class.” He nods to the water bottle in front of me and I rub a thumb over the smooth Bayview Beach sticker on it, trying and failing to ignore the fact that he noticed something so small about me.

I look away from him, taking a large drink of water when he speaks again.

“Alright, let’s see. Have you ever had a threesome?”

Water shoots out of my mouth like a goddamn elephant trunk. I beat my chest, choking, my face flaming, and once I’m finally able to regain some oxygen in my brain, I set my water bottle down and let my jaw fall open.

“It does not say that! ”

“It absolutely does,” he says, laughing at me.

“Let me see that.” I reach for the paper, but he lifts it above his head.

I jump out of my seat, reaching again, this time losing my balance.

I plant my hand firmly, catching myself before I fall, and only when I feel the tightening of muscles beneath it do I realize that my hand is on his thigh.

My lips part, and I freeze when we’re face-to-face.

His eyes fall to my lips and his Adam’s apple bobs slowly. I drag my gaze up to meet his. When our eyes connect, I’m not met with those eyes that can’t make up their mind about what color they are.

No. These eyes are dark. Hungry.

His thigh flexes under my palm again and I come to my senses, ripping my hand back as I sit back down in my chair.

“Well, clearly I’m not answering that.”

“Why not?”

“Um, because my aunt is going to read this.” I fold my arms across my chest.

My lungs seize when he scoots his chair toward me, rests an arm on the table, and leans across it—only a breath away from my face. “You could just be honest and say you haven’t.”

I’m careful not to breathe too hard, any slight movement and some part of me will most definitely touch him.

“Why.” I clear my breathy voice. “Why would you assume that?”

“Because if anyone were lucky enough to be with you, there’s no way in hell they would be able to share you.”