Emma
* * *
My stomach was in knots when I walked into Slade’s classroom on Friday. I was so distracted thinking about boys and fields and tests that I’d actuallyforgottento stop by the coffee cart before Music Theory. But what I really wasn’t prepared for was walking into class and finding Noah had beaten me there for the first time all semester.
He met my gaze just as I cleared the threshold, then nodded toward the desk beside him. I faltered a step, not believing my eyes.
A lone cup of coffee sat waiting on the empty desk.
My Keds dragged on the hardwood as I worked my way down the aisle. I didn’t want to assume anything.
“I thought you’d be a little preoccupied this morning and forget,” Noah said when I reached him, guessing correctly. “Scott threw in an extra scoop of sugar for good luck.”
I swallowed around an unexpected lump in my throat before easing myself into the empty chair beside him and staring at the innocent cup.
“You got me coffee?” My voice was still hoarse from waking up.
I glanced over in time to see Noah’s lips tilting up into his signature half smile. “If that’s how sharp your brain is this morning, drink as much as you can before the test.”
It took me a moment to realize he was making a joke, and I pretended to scoff before popping off the cup’s lid. Light-brown coffee and its wonderfully rich aroma greeted me, and the cup was still warm. I took a sip, finding everything about itjust right.
Slade strolled into the room as I drank, and I glanced at Noah out of the corner of my eye. He was already focused on the front of the room, completely unaware of the butterflies he’d awakened in my stomach.
“Pens at the ready,” Slade announced as he placed his briefcase on his desk and unsnapped it. He pulled out a stack of papers before gazing across the room. “Test day. You’ll have the full hour of class to complete this test, and the questions consist of what we’ve covered so far.”
I tipped the cup back, drinking faster.
Slade handed the tests to Blaise, who waltzed down the aisles as she passed them out. I finished my coffee, set it aside, and took a deep breath to center myself.
I could totally do this. I hadn’t just wasted a week of Noah’s time to bomb the test. Music Theory was my thing now. I knew this stuff.
My fingers trembled—whether it was from nerves or caffeine or butterflies, I wasn’t sure.
Noah cleared his throat beside me and held out his arm. “Here, use this.”
A sleek black pen rested in his fingers. The same style of pen I’d gnawed on less than a month ago—just missing the bite marks.
My jaw threatened to hit the floor. He was loaning me his fancy pen?
What.
“I can’t,” I said in reflex, unable to move or look away from the pen. “What if I chew on it again?”
“You won’t.” The right side of Noah’s mouth turned up, and he wiggled the pen, but I still didn’t take it. He sighed before leaning across the aisle. “You know what you’re doing, Emma. You’re ready.”
I blinked down at the pen, hesitating before I reached out and took it. It was smooth and cool to the touch, and all kinds of wonderful.
I’d missed it so much.
“Thank you,” I muttered, surprised by the gesture.
Blaise pushed her way through our arms, almost knocking the pen out of my hand. I grasped it tighter and pulled back as Noah settled into his seat again. Blaise smiled and handed us each a test.
“Good luck,” she crooned before continuing down the aisle.
* * *
An hour later, when Blaise came by to collect my test, I decided I could at least be proud of myself for not chewing on Noah’s pen. The writing instrument was still sleek, shiny, and oh-so-perfect.
