Page 9

savannah

I complain about a lot of things. I try to keep it in so I don’t come off as a downer. I have a lot of other personality traits that help aid that persona, so I can’t really afford to add ‘bitching’ to the list. But one thing I won’t complain about is the snow.

The early morning walk across campus is quiet and freezing, but I love it.

The dark blue sky, and the fresh white untouched powder on the ground, cover me in a sense of calm. I love feeling like I’m awake before the rest of the world. The sun hasn’t even graced us with her presence yet.

My cheeks start to burn as I hurry my pace across the dark campus, but when I turn the corner of a red brick building, I come to an abrupt halt.

I swallow down the sight of Noah standing—waiting—outside our classroom door in a black jacket, black jeans, and black beanie. The green ring around those dark eyes is the only pop of color on him, and they are staring me down—freezing me to the spot.

I spent the weekend deep cleaning my apartment in between binge-watching Sons of Anarchy with Chloe.

I got ahead on some of my classes, picked up an extra shift at The Den, and I even made a call to the women’s volleyball department, where I spoke with a woman named Anne about the Athletics Communication internship for almost thirty minutes—before she informed me that all the positions had been filled and would continue to be filled for the next six months.

To which I replied, “Thank you for your time”—and internally replied, ‘ Then why did you waste my fucking time’ ?

All that is to say, I put real effort into keeping busy this weekend, and yet somehow—my mind still wandered off to him.

And, fuck. That’s annoying.

My fingers tighten around the strap of my bag. I inhale the blistering cold air through my nose and meet him at the door.

“Noah,” I greet him.

“Twin,” he responds with a glint in his eyes.

I look down at my all-black outfit, roll my eyes, and pull my matching beanie from my head. Before I can respond, he holds out one of the cups in his hands.

“What’s this?” My eyes narrow suspiciously at the cup.

“A grande, hot, flat white, with a triple shot of decaf espresso, whole milk, extra foam but only on the bottom, with two pumps of hazelnut and one pump of caramel syrup. Oh, and a sprinkle of cinnamon.”

“How—” I can hardly hear my own whisper and the rest of my question dies on my lips when Noah shrugs his shoulders with a playful grin.

“I sweet-talked my guy Peter into giving me your coffee order.”

There’s a heavy dip in my stomach that I choose to avoid. I don’t have the time to dissect what it means that he even thought to ask in the first place, let alone how it’s making me feel that he did. Instead, I fall back on my shield of indifference and sharp comebacks .

“I suppose I’ll have to have a conversation with him about privacy, then.”

“You do that.”

My shoulder grazes across his chest as I step inside, and when I look up at him, I realize just how much he conveys with his eyes alone.

My breath grows heavy in my chest as his gaze travels from my eyes down to my mouth.

I involuntarily wet my bottom lip and watch as the green in his eyes almost disappear.

He has no shame about the way he looks at me and with every quirk of his head and smirk of his lips, he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. I swear I plan on ignoring him in every way that counts moving forward, but for this one split second, I let myself enjoy it.

His hand finds the small of my back, gently guiding me further into the classroom. His touch sends a warm tingle up my back before wrapping around my neck. I pray the tinge in my cheeks comes off as a reaction to the cold and not as a response to his hands on me.

“Savannah, honey!” A melodic voice greets me before I’m pulled into a hug. My aunt's lavender scent hits me, and I clear my throat, pulling my gaze from Noah. “Let’s do dinner sometime this week, yeah?”

When she pulls back and cups my face, I smile and nod against her hands, and then just as quickly as she appeared—she’s off, her flowy scarf trailing behind her.

“You two seem close.”

I walk to the far side of the room, with Noah trailing right beside me and we take the last two seats at the end of the row.

“She’s my aunt.”

“Oh.” He looks slightly surprised, but thankfully, he doesn’t ask any questions.

He strips off his coat, revealing a loose waffle knit long-sleeve shirt, and when he pushes the sleeves up, revealing his tan forearms, I think I audibly swallow.

He leans back in his chair with his legs spread wide under the table, and I don’t know who I want to smack more—him, for looking so good doing something as simple as sitting, or me, for having to work so hard to keep my attention off of him.

“Good morning! Good morning!” My aunt clasps her hands together at her chest. “Alright, go ahead and look at the person sitting next to you.”

I look to the wall at my left before turning my head to a grinning Noah on my right.

“Wonderful! Now introduce yourself to your new partner for the next few weeks.”

To his credit, instead of puffing out his chest like I expect him to, he slides a pen over his curved lips and looks down at the paper on his desk.

“You’ll work together, taking turns interviewing each other.

The questions will range in difficulty and it will be up to you how you answer and how hard you push for those answers.

Some questions might be as simple as your favorite color.

Others are a little more personal .” Her eyebrows raise, and someone in the room gives a low whistle.

“And some might show you where your limits lie as an interviewer. The goal of this assignment is to gain experience in both conducting an interview and having the first-hand experience of being on the receiving end of an interview.” She hands a stack of papers to the people at the start of each row.

“You will work with your partner to complete this exercise and then write a reflective paper on your experiences.”

I spent the rest of class brainstorming any way out of this disaster project, and now, as I head outside with Noah on my heels… I’ve got nothing.

“Alright, partner. Do you want to work out a schedule? ”

“Well.” I pull my hat on my head and start walking. “I actually didn’t get to eat this morning, and I can become a different kind of beast when I get hungry. It’s not pretty, really. So, maybe another time?”

“Perfect, neither did I. We could go to the diner on the corner.” His arm brushes against mine, but even through all our layers, the close contact sends another rush of warmth through my body.

I must be ovulating, because shoulder-to-bicep interaction, through at least four layers of clothing, should not warrant this kind of reaction.

I clearly cannot be trusted right now. I’m racking my brain for any kind of excuse to get out of this.

When I don’t respond, his presence beside me vanishes.

I turn to him. The morning sun has risen, peeking through the brick buildings behind him, creating a halo effect behind his head.

I squint, partly because of the sunshine, but mostly because it’s hard to want to imagine him as the devil when he’s standing there looking like a literal angel.

“Come on, Savvy. You can still hate me over pancakes.”

A deflated sigh escapes me and my shoulders slump.

Hearing him say the words out loud only confirms the thoughts that I’ve been avoiding all weekend.

I don’t hate him. I’m actually annoyed that I don’t hate him.

It’s easier to ignore someone when you don’t like them.

Or, at the very least, when you aren’t forced to work on a project with them.

I gnaw at the skin on my bottom lip. This guy is going to be the reason I have a hole there.

“I don’t hate you.”

“No?” He cocks his head, standing with his hands buried in his pockets. “This is just how you show all your friends affection?”

“I didn’t say we were friends.”

“We could be if you weren’t so against it.”

I eye him skeptically, reminding myself that he still doesn’t know who my dad is. At least when guys know who I am, I know their motives. With Noah, I’m at a complete loss as to what he has to gain right now. “You’re trying very hard.”

“Whew.” He wipes a hand across his brow. “For a second there, I was worried you couldn’t tell.” His smile lingers and mine follows.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek, but my lips betray me anyway. I can’t think straight when his jade and honey eyes bore into mine and I force myself to look away just as a blush warms my neck.

The hostess at the diner on campus is slumped over her stand, tapping her manicured nails against her chin while she smacks her gum.

Noah rests a hand on the stand, and her eyes travel the length of his arms, across his chest, and up to his face. I don’t even need to look up, to know that one side of his full lips is pulled up slightly at the corner.

“Hi. Table for two, please.”

Her beaming smile never falters, and I have to believe the extra sway of her hips is all for show as she leads us to a booth in the back.

“My name’s Hannah. Someone else will be with you in a minute to take your order, but is there anything I can get for you now?” she asks Noah.

My jaw strains and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

I want to be annoyed, but I can’t fault her.

If you’re able to avoid staring at Noah’s tree trunk thighs, his broad chest, or his piercing eyes, all you’re left to focus on is the way he just wrapped his sizable hand around his wrist and pushed the fabric of his shirt up to his elbows.

He rests his thick, golden, forearms on the table, and clasps his hands together in front of him.

By the way Hannah and I gawk at him, you would think he did something completely obscene.

For the second time today, I gulp down a swallow.

“Just two waters would be perfect, thank you.” He smiles at her, and thankfully this isn’t one of those diners where they have to wear roller-skates, because I’m almost certain her legs would have fallen out from under her.

“I’m going to wash my hands real quick.” He slides out of the booth. “You good?”

I shake my head, pulling my attention from the hostess, not realizing I was unintentionally glaring. Noah’s gaze follows my line of vision before he looks back at me with a crooked grin.

“Aww Savvy, don’t be jealous.”

“I’m a lot of things Noah, but jealous isn’t one of them.” I cock my head with a menacing smile.

He either doesn’t believe me or he doesn’t care, because his husky laughter is his only response as he leaves me on my own.

I let out a sharp breath as I frantically pull my phone from my bag.

Savannah: I need help.

Chloe: 9-1-1 what’s your emergency?

Savannah: I got paired up with Noah Kingston on a project in my stupid journalism class.

Chloe: WHAT?! I’ll start stocking up on water. It’s the end of the world as we know it.

Savannah: Hey. Remember last week when you had a meltdown over spilling your Diet Coke?

Chloe: It had been marinating for two weeks! Anyway, I’m listening but I’m failing to see the problem here .

I look around the diner, telling myself that I’m just making sure Noah isn’t on his way back, but truthfully—I’m steadying my breath, preparing to type these words.

Savannah: The problem is his forearms.

Chloe: Sav. I wish you could see my face right now. His forearms?! What’s wrong with his forearms?

Savannah: They’re making me….think.

Chloe: Think?

Savannah: Inappropriate thoughts! Chlo, FFS. Keep up.

Chloe: Of course they are. He probably has veins on veins in those things. He’s spent his whole life wielding that stick. Innuendo intended.

Savannah: Goodbye.

I drop my phone to my lap and ignore the smell of fried food while I take deep breaths.

Get a grip, Savannah.

I shake my head, roll my shoulders back, and slide my hands under my legs just as Noah appears and falls back into the booth across from me.

Two glasses of water are suddenly placed on the table, and I can’t prove it, but I’m positive she waited until he came back to bring us—him—our drinks.

Noah offers her a ‘thank you,’ but his attention is on his bag.

“Alright, let’s take a look at this.” I remain stoic, as his eyes roam over the papers.

His lips twist to the side and he clicks his tongue as he continues reading.

“Here we go. It says to arrange a quiet and comfortable setting for conducting the interview. Ensure there are minimal distractions.”

His two-toned eyes look up at me over the paper with a raised brow, insinuating something. Now I’m certain that even through all my glaring and clipped comebacks, I haven’t been slick with my secret glances.

“And then decide who will be the interviewer and who will be the interviewee for the first round. Conduct the interview, taking notes or recording the session. Switch roles and repeat the interview process. After completing both interviews, take some time individually to reflect on your experiences, and consider the following questions for your reflection.”

I nod my head. “Seems simple enough.”

“You will have two weeks to get through the questions and write up a paper. The paper should focus on the parts we enjoyed, found most challenging, and the things we learned through the answers to our partner’s questions,” he reads.

“Two weeks seems like a lot of time. How many questions are there? Could we just bang them out real quick?”

He flips through the packet. “Unlikely.” He turns the last page to me.

I slam my open palms to the table, leaning over it. “Two hundred questions?!”

“Looks like we’re going to be real friends after all.” He smiles before wrapping his hand around the top of his plastic cup, and brings the straw to his lips.

I sit back in my seat as he extends his hand across the table. “Hand me your phone.”

“What?” I feel my cheeks flame. “Why?”

“So I can give you my number.” His brows furrow in the middle. “You got something in there you don’t want me to see?”

Only the text to my best friend where I was sexualizing your arms.

“Okay, here.” He pulls out his own phone when I don’t answer. “What’s your number?”

I rattle off the numbers and a second later, my phone is buzzing between my legs. Oh god. I jerk at the vibration and silence it immediately, but I know my cheeks have already betrayed me.

“There. Now we can get a hold of each other.”

“Perfect.” I force a smile.