“But I was with Noah.” I look at her from under my lashes. “So, he probably just wanted a chance to talk to him.”
“Do you think he’s really that dumb?” she asks, getting up and heading to the kitchen. “Or just stupid?”
“The crazy thing is, I still don’t think he thinks he did anything wrong.”
“I would say using you to get your dad to give him a tryout is pretty wrong.”
“I know that, and you know that.” I smile, catching the orange she tosses me. “But I don’t think he knows that.”
“So, then, he’s both.” She sits back down, cracking open a Diet Coke. “Really dumbandstupid,” she deadpans. “Look, I’m all for staying in tonight and continuing this binge-watch, but I also got us invited to a party if you’re interested.”
My brows pinch together, feeling skeptical after the last party we ended up at. “Whose?”
“Some fraternity guy I tutored today.” She shrugs.
“Will Nathan be there?”
She turns back to the TV. “I don’t know, but even if he is, I don’t care. I told you, I’m moving on from him.”
I’ve heard this story before.
It took one interaction for me to read Nathan like an open book. He’s been keeping Chloe close but won’t commit to her. Instead, giving her some bullshit spiel about how he can’t have a girlfriend right now because football needs to be his main priority. But if he could, he would choose her. Spare me.
There's a good chance he’ll be there tonight, because while committing to a girlfriend is too distracting, going to parties somehow is not. And while the possibility of Chloe getting sucked back into his toxic orbit is there, so is the possibility of her falling into someone else’s lap.
“I’m in.”
14
noah
The Omega Sighouse is one of the older houses on Greek Row. If the torn-up wallpaper or busted blinds weren’t proof enough, the furniture is a collection of mismatched couches, lawn chairs, and bean bags.
I lean against the ornate built-in bookshelf that’s filled with trophies, empty cups, and something labeled a ‘Princess Diana beanie baby,’ in a dusty box. Being posted up here still seems like a better option than leaning against the wall. Gabe got stabbed by a rogue splinter doing that a few weeks ago. It’s not surprising the house is falling apart, considering they put all their money into a beer and party fund rather than repairs. Not my house, though, so it’s not my problem.
Two of our forwards, Shane and Carter—or Gopher and Candy, as their housemates refer to them—are members of the fraternity. This works out for us because we always have an open invitation.
Tired of standing around with an empty water bottle in hand, I move through the party, nodding and high-fiving a few people along the way. A hand of claws caresses my shoulder, and I shuffle back, slipping under a circle of guys who are getting ready to do a shotgun.
I lose the hand of whoever was touching me, but keep my eyes roaming over the party as I back up into the kitchen.
“Hey! Watch it.”
The corners of my mouth instantly quirk up because I’d recognize that pissed-off voice anywhere.
I spin on my heel and feel my smile falter slightly in shock. I was expecting to see Savannah’s signature scowl across her face, her body covered in her usual attire of leggings or yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt. Tonight, though, she came dressed to impress. Still in her same white sneakers, her bare legs peek out of a short, sparkly skirt. I remember being distracted by those legs when I first met her on my balcony, but tonight, I can’t take my eyes off them. They’re tan and toned, and they look unbelievably smooth. My fingers itch to dig into her thighs and find out if that last part is true. Unlike the night I met her, there are no goosebumps along her legs—there couldn’t be, not with the heat pouring from my eyes, dousing her body in flames. I drag my gaze up to the little sliver of skin between her skirt and her green tank top. It hugs her body like a second skin—like it was goddamn made for her. It’s so tight, it gives me the perfect outline of her breasts, and I can practically feel the weight of them in my hands. Just when I’m about to pull my gaze away, her nipples peak, and there’s a twitch in my pants at the sight.
“What are you, my fucking shadow now?” There’s no bite to her tone, but the mouth on this girl makes me feel and think unspeakable things.
I drag my hand across my lips, attempting to hide how much I enjoy her little quips, and how I was just undressing her with my eyes.
“Ahh, come on now. You can’t fight the magnetic pull between us.” I smile, leaning my hip against the counter.
“Is that what you’re calling it?”
“Does sexual attraction sound better to you?”
She pauses, running her tongue along her teeth, assessing me. Fuck, that’s hot. She’s got a sharp wit and an even sharper tongue. It was the first thing I noticed about her, but now I can’t stop myself from wanting that mouth of hers in every possible way.
