Page 22 of Hidden Goal
savannah
Leo: You sure you don’t want to come with us to The Midnight Club???
Savannah: Considering I would have no way of getting home… I’m sure.
Leo: It just feels sacrilegious to spend this one apart.
Savannah: You could always come with us to Rowdy’s
Leo: Pass. I’ll see you at breakfast.
There are days when I wish I had gone to Hartland University with Leo.
Going off to college together was always the plan.
My dad specifically applied for the coaching position at Linden Creek University when we were fifteen because he thought we would both be here.
When Leo got a full-ride scholarship to Hartland, he claimed he couldn’t pass up that opportunity, but my twin telepathy tells me that he was ready to get out from under the shadow he believes my dad casts over him.
I didn’t have a sports team to play for, and at the time, working for one wasn’t even on my radar.
I hadn’t chosen a major and hadn’t had any real goals then.
LCU was closer to home, Chloe got in, and both my dad and my aunt were here, so it was a no-brainer for me.
Still, I can’t lie and say I don’t miss Leo.
“Is this seat taken?”
I’m startled by the unfamiliar voice and look up to find a tall man I don’t recognize. He’s cute with his blond Devon Sawa hair, and although his smile is nice, I wouldn’t call it charming or delicious.
I don’t know why I do it, but without permission from my brain, my hand covers the seat next to me. “I’m sorry. I’m saving this seat for a friend.”
He nods his head, pieces of his blond hair falling in his face. He drags a hand through it with an easy smile. “No worries.”
My lips form a tight line, and I suddenly feel a warmth spread across my neck.
Embarrassment, maybe? Because—what the hell?
I’m not saving this seat for anyone. I quickly grab my pen and turn all of my attention to the paper in front of me, making small doodles in the corner, and leaving the seat next to me wide open.
I’m not guarding it in the slightest. Anyone can sit there. I don’t care. Open for the taking.
“I’ve been thinking,” a deep, raspy voice that I don’t need to look toward to recognize stills my hand.
“Did it hurt?” I ask, eyes never leaving the paper in front of me.
“What?”
“Using that big brain of yours?”
I’m about to smile, but Noah drapes an arm around the back of my chair and leans in close. My body goes rigid, minus the thrumming of my insides at his close proximity. His warm, clean, and borderline seductive scent pulls me under, and my eyes almost flutter closed .
“You’re quite sassy, Savvy girl.”
He’s not wrong. I’ve been compared to a cactus for my prickliness almost my entire life, but something about Noah makes me turn it up a notch… or seven. I don’t have the time to wonder if it’s because, with him, it feels different. It doesn’t feel like a defense mechanism.
“And yet, you’re still here.”
He leans in another inch, and any closer, his lips would brush against my neck. I hold still and demand my heart rate to slow down, nervous that my thundering pulse might graze his lips.
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” he whispers.
I breathe my first lungful of air when he sits back in his seat and leans across the table. “So… I had an interesting weekend.”
I don’t look over at him, but in my periphery, I can see he’s propped his elbow to the table and lazily drops his head into his hand.
“Did you now?”
“Mmm, I met your baby brother.”
The mention of Leo gives me pause. “Interesting indeed, considering I don’t have a baby brother.”
“Older brother?”
“Twin.”
Noah rears back quickly. “No.”
I finally twist in my seat, turning my attention to him. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“Well… yeah.”
“Why?”
His eyes trail down my body and then quickly back up to my face. “Because you’re… hot.”
Apparently, his lips pressing against my skin or his hands roaming my body are not the only ways he can make me flush. I bite my lip, looking back down at the paper in front of me .
“You said you were thinking about something?” I ask, attempting to bring the conversation back to the beginning.
“Yeah,” he says. “I want to take you on a date.”
Everything from my hands that were just doodling to my ribs stop moving. Confident I heard him wrong, I turn my head with the smoothness of an owl and blink at him. “You want?—”
“To go out.”
“With me?”
“Mhmm.” He keeps his eyes on me while pulling his laptop out from his backpack, like this is just the most normal conversation to be having.
And maybe for Noah, it is. I’ve never asked him about his dating history or why he’s single.
I guess I just assumed he didn’t date— which now that I think about it—doesn't make sense either. There’s a reason every girl on campus trips over themselves and bats their eyelashes at him.
I look down at the hard copy of our project that I printed after submitting my final write-up last night. The moment I clicked send, I shipped away any ideas I had about spending more time with Noah.
I let my curiosity get the better of me. “Why now? We’re no longer partners.”
“Oh, I was ready to ask you out on the first day of class. Your aunt just helped me out by sticking us together for the last few weeks on this project. But since we’re done…” He winks, picking up my paper and wiggling it in the air.
Wires are getting crossed in my brain. I feel like I’m short-circuiting.
Have I laughed more than I anticipated with him in the last few weeks?
Sure. Have I been able to stop thinking about last weekend in the bathroom?
Absolutely not. Do my legs feel like Jell-O when his green and brown eyes light up at me like I’m the only person in the room?
Unfortunately, yes. Truthfully, if I were different, or if he were anyone else, I could see it.
I could see a world where there might be something between us. But we are who we are.
My thoughts must be written all over my face, because Noah’s shoulders slump and his chin dips in a way that feels beyond defeated.
“Is your hesitancy because you still don’t trust hockey players?”
“You wouldn’t either if you’ve been burned a time or two.”
“So what? One hockey player wronged you, and now the rest of us don’t even get a fighting chance.”
It wasn’t just one.
“Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, you’re dead to me.”
His barking laugh is so contagious, I can’t help but to return a smile. “I don’t think that’s how the saying goes, George Bush.”
If I continue to date hockey players who can’t help themselves from burning me, it’s my own fault. I promised myself that after Tucker, that it would never be my fault again.
“It’s how it goes for me.”
His eyes study me like he’s trying to read my thoughts. I decide to put him out of his misery and place my hand over his on the table.
“But I meant it when I said we could be friends.”
His thumb wraps around my pinky, stroking my skin softly.
“Friends who date?”
It’s obvious that Noah is used to getting what he wants, but no one can say he doesn’t work hard for it. Another minute of his persuasion, a flash of his pearly whites, and I could see myself caving.
“No.” I pull my hand back, but his reaction time is quick. He clasps my hand, intertwining our fingers. I stare down at where we connect, trying to shove the fireflies back into their jar.
“Just friends who make out in bathrooms?” The heated look in his eyes and the flirty tilt of his smirk makes it difficult for me to swallow, let alone say anything. “What are you doing on Friday?”
“I’m busy.”
“You got a hot date?”
“Something like that.” His fingers squeeze my hand lightly, and then he lets me go but continues to press me with his gaze. I sigh, rolling my eyes. “It’s my birthday.”
“What?!” Heads turn in our direction and I duck, lowering into my seat. “What are we doing?” he whispers this time.
“ We aren’t doing anything. I, however, am having a simple night out with Chloe.”
“Great, what time should I be there?”
“That wasn’t an open invitation.”
“Come on, I’ll make it your best birthday yet.”
The lid of the jar pops off and fireflies erupt in my stomach at the insinuation.
“Good morning!” My aunt sing-songs to the class.
Noah only winks at me, leaning back in his seat with a knowing smirk, twirling that damn pen.