I don’t look over at him, but in my periphery, I can see he’s propped his elbow to the table and lazily drops his head into his hand.
“Did you now?”
“Mmm, I met your baby brother.”
The mention of Leo gives me pause. “Interesting indeed, considering I don’t have a baby brother.”
“Older brother?”
“Twin.”
Noah rears back quickly. “No.”
I finally twist in my seat, turning my attention to him. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“Well… yeah.”
“Why?”
His eyes trail down my body and then quickly back up to my face. “Because you’re… hot.”
Apparently, his lips pressing against my skin or his hands roaming my body are not the only ways he can make me flush. I bite my lip, looking back down at the paper in front of me.
“You said you were thinking about something?” I ask, attempting to bring the conversation back to the beginning.
“Yeah,” he says. “I want to take you on a date.”
Everything from my hands that were just doodling to my ribs stop moving. Confident I heard him wrong, I turn my head with the smoothness of an owl and blink at him. “You want?—”
“To go out.”
“With me?”
“Mhmm.” He keeps his eyes on me while pulling his laptop out from his backpack, like this is just the most normal conversation to be having. And maybe for Noah, it is. I’ve never asked him about his dating history or why he’s single. I guess I just assumed he didn’t date— which now that I think about it—doesn't make sense either. There’s a reason every girl on campus trips over themselves and bats their eyelashes at him.
I look down at the hard copy of our project that I printed after submitting my final write-up last night. The moment I clicked send, I shipped away any ideas I had about spending more time with Noah.
I let my curiosity get the better of me. “Why now? We’re no longer partners.”
“Oh, I was ready to ask you out on the first day of class. Your aunt just helped me out by sticking us together for the last few weeks on this project. But since we’re done…” He winks, picking up my paper and wiggling it in the air.
Wires are getting crossed in my brain. I feel like I’m short-circuiting. Have I laughed more than I anticipated with him in the last few weeks? Sure. Have I been able to stop thinking about last weekend in the bathroom? Absolutely not. Do my legs feel like Jell-O when his green and brown eyes light up at me like I’m the only person in the room? Unfortunately, yes. Truthfully, if I were different, or if he were anyone else, I could see it. I could see a world wherethere might be something between us. But we are who we are.
My thoughts must be written all over my face, because Noah’s shoulders slump and his chin dips in a way that feels beyond defeated.
“Is your hesitancy because you still don’t trust hockey players?”
“You wouldn’t either if you’ve been burned a time or two.”
“So what? One hockey player wronged you, and now the rest of us don’t even get a fighting chance.”
It wasn’t just one.
“Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, you’re dead to me.”
His barking laugh is so contagious, I can’t help but to return a smile. “I don’t think that’s how the saying goes, George Bush.”
If I continue to date hockey players who can’t help themselves from burning me, it’s my own fault. I promised myself that after Tucker, that it would never be my fault again.
