Maverick grins as Silas plays along. “It doesn’t matter, I would just be yelling out ‘That’s it, baby’ when I’m balls deep in?—”
I see red. “First of all, she wouldn’t have given you a second look after the way you were drooling all over her friend. And second, her name’s Savannah, and she’s cool so stop fuckin’ talking about her like that.” I’m half off the couch pointing my finger at him when I finally take in his shit-eating grin.
I look to my left and Silas’s mouth hangs open, but the corners of his lips are lifted.
Goddamnit.
“Aw, buddy. You fell for his shit.” Silas ruffles my hair as he passes me, heading to the kitchen.
“So, what? You got a girlfriend now?” Maverick bats his eyelashes and kicks his feet up. Silas laughs along with him, but I’m telling myself it’s moreathim.
I might not have hated the idea of it last night. Even now, in my chilly but sunlit living room, the idea doesn’t completely turn me off—but when I commit to something, I have to give it my full attention. It’s the way I’ve been wired my whole life. Between hockey and classes, I’ve never had time to give anything else my full attention, let alone a relationship. A hook-up here and there is all I’ve had time for. All I’ve cared for, honestly, but between that little outburst and how much I enjoyed last night, I don’t have it in me to argue with them, because they’re right. I can hope it’s just a case of wanting what you can’t have and hoping it goes away, but the desire to talk to her and the craving to be near her are definitely there. I don’t know what that means, because no one has caught my interest for longer than an hour or two, but I can’t deny that Iaminterested.
I grab my coffee and pass them as I head up the stairs. “You guys are assholes,” I call over my shoulder, and their answering laughs and kissing noises cut off when I shut the door to my room.
8
savannah
I complainabout 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 inbetween binge-watching Sons of Anarchy with Chloe. I got ahead on some of my classes, picked up an extra shift atThe Den,andI 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.
