She playfully rolls her eyes, and I know I’ve got her.
“Fine.”
12
savannah
An hour later,and we’ve only managed to dust off seven more questions because every answer ends with a laugh, a tangent, or a deeper explanation.
Informing Noah that I plan to eventually work with hockey players, but never date one, was exactly the reminder that I needed.
I can work—possibly even play—with Noah. I can stop being annoyed every time he makes me laugh, and I can stop beating myself up every time I sneak a peek at those trouble-maker eyes or his slutty little hoop earring. So long as I remember that nothing more will ever come of this, I can let myself relax a little more with him.
“Favorite holiday?”
“Would it be so boring if I said Christmas?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says. “But it’s my favorite too, and what’s the alternative—New Year’s?”
My cheeks hurt from the hour I’ve spent unable to stop smiling. I spin my water bottle between my hands before setting my chin on the lid. “I just really like the lights. They make everything seem… better.”
“Better,” he echoes.
“Yeah. Even the boring shopping center that you never think twice about feels better in November, when they wrap the lampposts and stop signs in Christmas lights. Maybe it’s the warmth from them? I don’t know, but they always make me happy.”
When I look up, remembering who I’m talking to, I expect to find an amused smirk on his face, but Noah just sits there listening.
“Umm, next question.” I point to the sheet.
He stares at me for a beat longer before looking back down at the paper. “Do you have a favorite quote?”
“Yes.” I nod my head, not having to think about it. “Trust the vibes you get; energy doesn’t lie.”
Noah’s lips move silently, like he’s replaying the words in his head.
“It’s—”
“Hey, Savannah.”
My blood slows at the annoying voice, and it takes me a second longer than it should to recognize who it belongs to.
“Tucker.” I force a smile, nodding at the guy now leaning against the table, looking down at me. “Do you know Noah?” I gesture across the table, knowing damn well he knows who Noah is.
“I do, but we’ve never officially met. Hey.”
Noah lifts his chin in greeting, but says nothing else. Maybe he’s taking my words to heart and reading Tucker’s bad energy.
“So listen.” He turns to me, lowering his voice. “I was thinking we could grab dinner sometime and catch up. It’s been a long time.”
Not even for every single dollar in the world.
“Maybe.”
He clears his throat, looking over his shoulder and then back to me, before showing off a smile so fake it resembles a plastic diamond.
“Cool. Alright—well.” He stands, looking down at me with hope in his eyes, like I might ask him to stay. When I don’t, he gestures to the table. “I’ll let you get back to whatever you were working on.”
I don’t say goodbye and Noah just tilts his chin again and waits for Tucker to leave.
