Page 25

savannah

“Bark, bark!”

I catch Chloe’s reflection behind me in the mirror. Her tongue is hanging out and her hands are folded over at her chest like a dog.

“Down, girl.”

“You look hot,” she says, falling onto my bed.

I tilt my head, trailing my eyes down my body.

I don’t look any different than I usually do.

My outfit is the same as always—jeans and a sweater.

Although, I did forgo my usual all-black attire, and went with a very unlike-me pink sweater.

Instead of my air-dried wavy strands of hair, I decided to give Chloe’s round thermal brush a try last minute, giving me more of a blown-out look.

Maybe it’s the tiny stroke of eyeliner I added.

I study my reflection, this time a little more self-conscious.

It’s not that I think trying hard is a bad thing, but I don’t want to give Noah the wrong impression.

This is a one-off. This is a ‘ let’s get this out of our system’ type of thing. Not an ‘ I’m willing to give up my entire stance on hockey players just because you have some weird monopoly on my thoughts and I’ve imagined you naked’ type of thing .

I’ve seen the worst in people in their attempts to get ahead in this sport.

It’s cemented in my mind that hockey players will do whatever it takes to get to the NHL, and no one is safe if they’re standing in the way.

Noah is currently the best player in the league, with a spot already waiting for him with Toronto.

He doesn’t need to pretend to like me to throw my brother off his game in order to make himself look better, unlike Cody.

He was good enough to be noticed by my dad early and didn’t need me to point my dad in his direction, unlike Tucker.

A booming knock on the front door pulls me from my racing thoughts. I squint with pursed lips, looking back and Chloe. “What the hell? He’s on time?”

“Yeah?”

“He’s never on time.”

Chloe pushes herself off the bed. “Maybe this is important to him.” She stands in my doorway, lightly tapping her fingers against the wood frame, before looking at me through the mirror again. “I know you want to hate him, Sav, but I promise you—the world won’t end if you have a good time.”

Mine would.

If I have a good time, let down those walls, and let him in, I fear I won’t know how to come back from that.

I push the thoughts aside and smile at her. “Et tu, Brute?”

She drops her head with a laugh before turning towards the living room.

I’m left standing alone with my new sweater, styled hair, black-rimmed eyes, and the proof that maybe this is important to me too, staring back at me.

With a final sweep over my sweater, I grab my purse and open my bedroom door to find Noah with his arms crossed, leaning against the back of my couch.

My breath stills in my lungs. Even if nothing comes of this date, and we go our separate ways after today, I know without a doubt that I’ll be on my deathbed with images of his jawline and silver hoop earring in my head.

His tongue sweeps across his bottom lip before he pulls it between his teeth, and I swallow past the lump in my throat when I lock eyes with my summer storm.

He pushes off the couch, blowing out a breath as he drags his knuckles across his chin, and his eyes rake up and down my body.

“Savvy, babe. You look—” The words die in his mouth as he shakes his head.

He’s so devastatingly handsome .

“Back at ya, Golden Boy.”

We get to the bottom of the stairs and my heart rate spikes when I spot Noah’s Range Rover. The lights flash as he unlocks it, and his hand finds the small of my back, guiding me to the passenger side.

The ground shakes beneath me and I sway, feeling light headed, before I come to an immediate stop.

Noah mirrors my movement, standing still beside me, and his gaze burns the side of my face. I fight the urge to squeeze my eyes shut in the hopes that the ground will open up and swallow me whole.

I had been so preoccupied with the fact that I was wearing a different-colored sweater that I forgot to come up with a plan for transportation.

“Savannah?” Noah hesitates.

I’m sure if I were to peel my eyes from his car, I would find confusion written all over his face. Or maybe he’s just looking at me like I’m insane. Who knows?

“I’m sorry.” I shake my head, attempting to clear the fog. “I know this is going to sound crazy but… would you mind if I drive?”

I finally look at him, and my heart splinters a little when I don’t find confusion, but rather worry etched in his otherwise beautiful eyes .

“What’s going on, Sav?”

More than I can tell you in the middle of a parking lot before a first date.

“I just—” I fill my lungs with air and a pinch of confidence. “I don’t let other people drive me.”

“Ever?”

My lips form a tight line and I shake my head.

When I think he’s going to push for more information, or fight me to drive, he surprises me by lifting my hand and setting his keys in my palm.

The tension in my shoulders immediately drops. My mouth parts, and I feel an overwhelming desire to clutch his hand between mine. He doesn’t understand what this means to me, or he’s just kind enough to let me get away with it, because he opens the driver's door for me without another word.

“Turn left up here at the stop sign.”

My apartment is as close to campus as you can get without actually being considered ‘on campus’.

The three-minute drive that Noah directs me on through our little lake town is familiar, though.

The music is barely audible as we drive down a quiet, tree-lined road, and he points to the only house on the dark street.

Pulling into the driveway of the over-the-top, grand tudor-style house, I notice all the lights are off inside.

Aside from a faint glow coming from the backyard, it's pitch black.

We roll to a stop, and I put the car in park before leaning over the steering wheel and looking out the windshield.

“ This is where we’re having our date?” I ask, looking up at Noah’s house.

He doesn’t answer, and before I can undo my buckle, he’s already opening my door and holding his hand to me .

My boots crunch against the snow as he leads us off the driveway and around the side of the house.

“Where’s the rest of your crew?” I ask.

His hold on my hand tightens as he looks over her shoulder at me. “They’re under strict orders to stay out until the sun comes up.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little presump—” The air stills in my lungs when we turn the corner to his backyard. “Oh my god.” I let go of his hand only to cover my gaping mouth. “Clark Griswold, what did you do?”

He chuckles softly, sounding slightly nervous.

My eyes can’t pick a spot to focus on. Miles worth of Christmas lights steam across the entirety of the backyard.

Colored lights are wound around the trees that line the lake, white lights are draped across the pergola over the patio, and a mix of both wrap around the banister of the stairs that lead up to Noah’s balcony.

The same balcony where all of this started weeks ago.

“You did all of this?”

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal, scratching the back of his neck in the most endearing way. “Silas held the ladder while bitching that Coach wouldn’t approve of such dangerous activities.”

“He wouldn’t…” I trail off when I spot a pile of blankets folded by the fire pit, with a tray full of ingredients sitting on top of them. “You got s’mores?” I ask, turning to face him.

“I hope the real deal is as good as the flavored stuff.” He closes the small distance between us by tucking his fingers through my belt loops and pulling me in closer to him.

My eyes flutter closed when he drops his forehead to mine, and his minty breath is a whisper against my lips when he says, “I’ve got one more surprise. ”

He drops a kiss to my forehead and I open my eyes. He takes a step back, lacing our fingers together, and turns toward the lake .

A thick lump forms in my throat, and when my nose starts to burn, I know it doesn’t have anything to do with the cold. Two pairs of Bauer skates rest against the dock. One pair is bigger than the other and slightly used; the other is brand new.

“Oh, I… I don’t skate.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m practically a professional.” He smiles over his shoulder, unaware of the panic rising in my blood with each step we take.

The beat thumping in my ears is so loud that I wonder if Noah can hear it too. It isn’t until I swallow down the nausea in my throat and take a breath that I realize it’s my own heart pounding.

“I thought of about thirty options for a first date before landing on this,” he says, guiding me to sit beside him as he pulls on his skates. “And I know this might not seem like the most extravagant date, but it’s the best way I could think to share the biggest part of myself with you.”

The lake has been shoveled into a perfect rectangle—of course it has—it was done by Noah.

Everything he does is with purpose and an immense amount of heart.

The way he planned this perfect night—just by simply paying attention to me—shows.

His vulnerability helps put some of my fear aside, too.

Still strumming my bottom lip, I face him, cup his cheek, and swipe my thumb along the edge of his jaw.

One corner of his mouth twitches and I fight the instinct to pull him in close and kiss that perfect mouth.

He makes quick work of lacing his skates before standing to his full height in front of me.

The second my feet slide into the new skates, I’m engulfed by an odd yet familiar feeling.

Nostalgia for something I used to love and uncertainty about something I gave up.

My fingers tremble as I pull on the laces.

Noah cups the back of my calf and lifts my leg between his.

His strong thighs grip my skate, and his deft fingers wrap the strings around my ankle as he ties them in the front.

I inhale the frigid air as I stand, look down, and wait.

I wait for my breath to get shallow. I wait for black spots to fill my vision.

I wait to hear the blood rushing between my ears, or for my heart rate to peak to dangerously high levels.

I wait for the panic to knock me on my ass—but instead—I’m met with the warmth of Noah’s body at my back, wrapping me in a blanket of comfort.

His fingers lace with mine and I close my eyes, dropping my head back to his chest. We stay like this for a minute, with his heart beating steadily at my back against the quiet night.

A wet drop from a snowflake lands on the tip of my nose, and when I open my eyes, the stars above me are slowly dancing by. To my left, the tree-lined perimeter of the lake begins to blur together, and when I look down, my skates move between Noah’s.

I’m skating.

Well, Noah is skating, and he’s taking me along for the ride.

“How ya feeling?” he murmurs into my neck.

My eyes sting, but my smile couldn’t possibly grow any wider. I squeeze my eyes shut, allowing one lone tear to fall before I bat it away.

His arms slowly begin to unwrap from behind me, and before I can look back at him, he’s already in front of me.

He clasps my hands in his, holding me securely, and his legs never stop moving.

He glides backward effortlessly, pulling me along with him.

A weight that I didn’t realize I had been carrying slowly floats off of my shoulders behind me.

A cry slips from my mouth, but I mask it with a smile and follow it up with a genuine laugh. I tentatively let go of his hands and let my arms fall behind me against the wind. The frosty air kisses my skin when I throw my head up to the night sky, unable to keep the smile off my face .

Noah’s presence shifts to a force by my side, telling me that he’s here, and it’s all I need to pump my legs a little faster.

My cheeks grow chapped from the wind, but I go faster still.

When I reach the end of the shoveled part of the lake, I cross-step and take off back in the other direction.

My body moves like it never left the ice and my heart beats like it’s happy to be home.