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I like his smile. It’s a pinch higher on the left, revealing a sliver of his white teeth. The hint of stubble along his jaw wasn’t there last night, and allows for a nice little shadow, helping his smile burn brighter, also making his eyes appear more aqua than midnight ocean waves.
“He’d be happy to hear that, but if you tell him, he’ll get an even bigger head,” I joke, and while Noah’s lips twitch, his features smooth.
After a moment, he nods, opening his mouth to speak, but he then he faces forward and clears his throat.
“I have to get going.” He pushes to his feet, looking over at me. “Sundays are a little busy for me.”
I nod.
What’s on Sundays?
Noah stands there a second longer and then gathers our garbage, heading toward the kitchen, but I stay where I am, watching.
It’s so strange he’s here in my space.
Not as strange as how it feels as natural as it does with the boys.
Noah reaches the door, pulls it open, and pins me with a smirk over his shoulder. “I put my number on a napkin and stuck it on the fridge. If you text me your number, maybe next time, I’ll call ahead.” With that, he winks and walks out.
Smiling, I push to my feet and grab said napkin. I make my way back to the couch, phone in hand, and I type out a text while hoping he doesn’t think my musical crackhead syndrome is too much. He said maybe he’d call next time so…
* * *
Me: here’s my number in case you want to, you know, call me ... maybe.
* * *
I grin at my lyric of choice and wait for his reply.
* * *
Romeo: hahaha. Wanna know a secret?
* * *
Of course, I wanna know!
I respond a little more subtle.
* * *
Me: it’s not a secret if you tell me.
* * *
Romeo: I knew you were going to send me something about a song.
* * *
My brows pull in.
* * *
Romeo: Don’t frown.
* * *
What the…
I bite my lip and type out my next message.
* * *
Me: how?
* * *
Romeo: Well, Juliet, it won’t be a secret if I tell you.
* * *
Damn. I grin.
He’s good.
Noah leaves me in such a good mood this afternoon that I completely forget what Sundays are about for my crew, and a couple hours later, while I’m still sitting in the spot Noah left me, the door to my dorm opens.
My lungs seize as Cameron steps in, Mason and Brady right behind her. The door begins to close, and I grab the blanket, covering my lap tighter as it grows closer and closer to the frame, but the second it touches, it’s shoved back open again.
Chase steps inside, his eyes instantly finding mine.
Shit.
Considering they found me lounging with a pile of blankets and a half-eaten box of pin wheels, tossing out a random excuse was a no-go, which is why I’m now sandwiched between Mason and Brady, who just dropped onto my living room couch, pretending I planned to be here all along.
Mason wraps his arm around my shoulder and tugs me to him with a playful growl. “Miss you, sister. Feel like I see less and less of you. It bites.”
A sharp pain knocks against my rib cage and I look to my brother, guilt heavy in my mind, but a smile on my lips. “Me too, brother.” I hug him, shoving him away when he bites at my scalp.
“What the hell?” I laugh, and he smirks, snagging the remote from my lap and switching over to ESPN. Of course.
“How’s that study group going?” Brady calls, and I look his way. His gaze is narrowed, aware I’m a big fat liar, so I do the one thing he’s asking for.
I nod in admission.
Brady nods back, yanks me to him and kisses my hair, stealing the other half of my blanket as he straightens.
Chase files over next, and I lift my hand to wave, but he does what I don’t expect, leaning over for a hug. So I hug him back as I have a hundred times before, only it feels the furthest thing from normal.
It aches.
I don’t know if it’s his way of keeping up appearances, but the way his grip tightens on me, and how his palms widen across my back, makes it feels like a plea, but I couldn’t tell you for what if I tried.
When he pulls back, I quickly turn to glance over my shoulder at Cameron as an excuse to hide the unease in my eyes before he has a chance to look into them.
“You need help?” I offer, ready to jump from my seat.
Everyone laughs, and I frown.
“Ha freaking ha, I am not useless.” I shove Mason, and he only laughs more.
“No, honey cakes, you’re not,” Cameron placates me teasingly. “But I cooked the last two weeks, so it’s officially their turn.”
