I freeze, feeling somehow caught. “What?”
He drums his fingers once, twice atop the wood before his hand wraps around my empty glass. His voice is low and teasing. “A jock? Really?”
I laugh suddenly, remembering my earlier comment.
“Noah, you look like you could casually pull a tree out of the ground.” I try not to look at his shoulders. I’m always looking at his shoulders. “You look like you lift…heavy things.”Well said, Sadie.
He’s fully grinning now. “If anyone’s the jock in our group, Sadie, it’s you.”
I scoff. “Hardly.”
“How many marathons have you run?”
“How do you know I run?”
Noah holds my gaze for another moment before his stare drops. Those lake-blue eyes, somehow darker now, slide slowly down my body in an assessing way that doesn’t feel entirely clinical. The pathof his eyes traces a line of heat down the side of my leg, and his gaze catches on where my jeans are ripped and lingers there. You can hardly tell the shape of my legs in these pants—and it’s certainly no way to judge who does or doesn’t run,I think dimly—but Noah looks for all the world like he’s trying to picture them bare anyway. “Lucky guess,” he says dryly. “How many?”
“None,” I say honestly, though I have to clear my throat before I do. In truth, this was the second year I’d entered and lost the drawing for the NYC marathon. Begrudgingly, I admit, “Just a few halves.”
He doesn’t bother to brag; the twinkle in his eyes and his softly exhaled “Uh-huh” do it for him.
Noah strides back behind the bar with my glass in hand, and I look to where his bartending partner is cashing out the last group down the bar. I begin to gather my own things, ignoring the goosebumps on my forearms. After a moment, we’re alone.
“Listen, Sadie, I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
I swing to face him again. He stands grinning with his thumbs tucked into the pockets of his jeans, rocking back onto the heels of his Docs. His smile is like sunshine.
My bones buzz with anticipation.
Do you have any plans this weekend?
Would you still like to explore Heller with me?
“Would you be interested in painting the wall?” he asks.
“…What?”
Smiling sheepishly, Noah gestures at the dark green wall on the other side of the brewery.
I blink twice. I’m caught in a swirl of confusion before the unmistakable stomach drop of disappointment and embarrassment anchors me.
Had I really thought he was about to ask me out?
A date?I scoff internally.Very silly, Sadie.And even if he had wanted to explore—which had been his suggestion in the firstplace—it was presumptuous to assume that he meant it in any context other than friendly. God, he was probably asking everyone else the same thing. Maybe he’d already checked out the gaming store with Liam, or has plans for Morgan to show him the bookstore…
I’ve let the awkward silence hang for so long that some of Noah’s smile has dimmed, his hand dropping back to his side. Forcing some humor into my tone, I tease, “You don’t like the green?” Anyone can paint a wall. Why is he asking me?
“We want amural,” he clarifies. “My boss, Dan, has some directional ideas, but not much. There would be a lot of artistic freedom. I’m not sure if it’s the sort of project you do, but after looking through your sketchbook, well…I thought I’d ask if it’s something you’d consider.” His smile is endearingly crooked.
I’m intrigued, but hesitant. “When does he want it done by?”
Noah rolls his shoulder in a shrug. “He’s not in a rush. It’s more important we find the right fit, y’know?”
“Mm.” I look back to the wall. Shapes and colors dance before my eyes, forming the wisps of different ideas for how to fill such an expansive space. It’s been so long since I’ve worked on anything other than my digital drawing tablet. Though I have some traditional experience with the few art classes I allowed myself in college, I haven’t done a mural since high school, when a friend and I were hired to paint a couple of exam rooms at the local children’s hospital. I open my mouth to say as much, but on second thought, I close it. I don’t want to disqualify myself so quickly. I’ve grown used to shrinking back and saying no these past few weeks, so I’m surprised to feel the tug ofwantto do this project.
“Thanks for thinking of me, Noah. I didn’t realize Kylo Ren’s cleavage left such an impression on you.”
His smile is indulging, but his eyes are serious. “It’s true, ’twas the dark side sad boy who drew my eye. But I saw some of your other sketches—the lighthouse, the cliff face, the campfire…andthey just seemed so perfect, Sadie.” He dips his chin to meet my eyes. “You’ve really got something special.”
