It’s ten to ten when there’s a knock at the door. Several seconds of groaning into my blankets pass, but Cameron’s feet never stomp along the linoleum floor, and then I remember she poked her head in earlier to tell me she was leaving.
A second knock sounds and I flop onto my back, huffing at the ceiling, slowly pulling myself to my feet.
“Com—” I try to speak, but my voice is a croaky mess, so I clear my throat and try again. “Coming,” I yawn mid-word, using all the muscles that are working right now to unlock and open the door.
My eyes widen, my body freezing, and autopilot has me slamming the thing closed as soon as I’ve opened it.
A deep chuckle echoes through from the other side, and I lightly bang my forehead against the cheap wood.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I whisper.
“Come on, Juliet. Open up.” Humor is clear in his tone. “I’ve already seen you now.”
I groan, shifting slightly to look in the mirror beside the door. I lick my fingers and rub beneath my eyes, attempting to rid myself of some of the black eyeliner that made its way down my face and smooth the Alfalfa-esque hair down that’s sticking up all over the place.
Taking a deep breath, I shake the sleeves of the hoodie I stole from Mason, until it’s swallowed my hands, and bring it up to my mouth.
I pull the door open, and I’m met with a big, bright morning smile, the kind that demands one in return, despite the horror and embarrassment of my appearance.
“Morning, sunshine.”
My eyes narrow playfully and I take a step back, welcoming him inside. “Good morning, Noah.” I close the door and lean against it, crossing my arms over my braless chest.
I watch wordlessly as he takes the few steps toward the kitchen, setting a drink holder ,of what I assume are coffees, and a café bag on the bar-like countertop. Noah pulls a water bottle from the pocket of his hoodie, twists off the cap and sets it down beside the other items. His hand slips into the front pocket of his jeans next, sliding right back out with a small bottle of Excedrin, and finally, my tired, hungover mind catches on.
Noah didn’t only come here to check on me; he came to take care of me.
It’s clear he’s been up for a while. He’s bright-eyed and fresh in a pair of jeans, a lightweight gray hoodie similar to the one I’m wearing, and his dark hair is swiped to the right, like he ran a quick hand through it and called it a day.
He turns to me, his face all-business.
“Here.” He lifts his closed fist, holding my gaze with his.
I suppress a grin as I push off the door and meet him where he stands, opening my hand as requested.
He pushes my sweatshirt back with the inner part of his middle finger and my eyes drop to the contact, confused when the exposed skin of my wrist prickles. Noah sets the pills in my palm, quickly passing me the water bottle.
Water in one hand, pills in the other, my eyes lift to his.
A soft smile forms along his lips as if in answer to the question I didn’t have to ask.
“I wanted to make sure you were all right. Cam showed up at the house about an hour ago and said you were still in bed,” he tells me.
My face transforms into a frown before I can stop it, let alone process the reason why, and Noah laughs.
“I didn’t decide to come after I heard.” He grins. “I was already planning on coming here before I spotted her.”
I squish my lips to the right, fighting the blush threatening to spread.
Noah sees it, the heat rising along my neck, but he’s a gentleman about it and turns away, leaving me to my awkwardness.
Why would it matter if he only came because Cam likely made it sound like I died and came back a zombie? I wasn’t that drunk, and it’s not like I expected him to show at all. Why would he?
I squeeze my eyes shut and give myself a mental shake before dropping the pills in my mouth and finishing off half the water bottle.
“So.” Noah speaks with his back to me. “I got plain coffees to play it safe, figuring if you were a coffee girl, you’d have creamer already, and a couple breakfast sandwiches.”
I walk around him and pull out both Cam’s caramel creamer and my thin mint one, placing them on the counter in front of him.
He looks at the bottles, his eyes narrowing in thought. “I think caramel’s too basic for you.”
“I don’t know… I am kind of basic,” I tease.
“I disagree.” He smirks, removing the lids and adding one creamer to each until the paper cups are full and then places them both in front of me. “Prove me wrong.”
I lift a brow, grabbing the caramel one as he eyes me, and then I set it in front of him, our laughter following.
A satisfied grin pulls at his lips as he pulls the sandwiches from the bag. “Ham or sausage?”
I scrunch my nose and his face falls.
“You don’t like either?” he nearly pouts, and my smile is instant.
“I like both, and I’m dying to drink this coffee, but… mind if I shower?” Maybe, I don’t know… put some pants on?”
He frowns, his attention immediately dropping to my bare legs, and then his dark brows jump. “Shit. I’m sorry.” He spins on his heels, running a hand over the hair at the base of his skull.
I laugh. “I’ll be quick if you want to find something to watch. Unless you can’t stay, of course, then thank you for—”
His glances over his shoulder. “I can stay.”
“Okay, then.” I grin, grab my coffee and lift it. “Thank you, Noah. Seriously.”
He nods as I make my way into my room to grab my things. It’s times like this I appreciate the private bathroom Cam and I were blessed enough to get.
In the shower, I think about Noah being here, as well as how Mason would murder the man if he knew. Actually, maybe it’s me who he’d murder for allowing Noah in like nothing, but I don’t know. He lives in the same house as my brother, plays on the same team, and so far, no one has had a bad word to say about the guy. Mase would have never left me on the beach with Noah that day if he didn’t trust him in some manner, let alone invite him to the bonfire that day, so it doesn’t feel like a bad move.
Plus, I had a lot of fun last night. Having someone to talk to outside of my normal group was refreshing in a way I’ve never experienced.
I love talking to Cam and I’d trust her with all things in my world, but I had a fresh mind with a fresh outlook and I think it was exactly what I needed. While it seemed to bother him that I was upset, he wasn’t wounded by the situation as me, Chase, and Cameron were, or as Brady or Mason would be if they knew. It’s different, and I love that.
We didn’t sit around the entire time working to wash away or prevent awkwardness. It was fun and stress-free. It was easy.
Noah being here now, though, I one thousand percent did not expect. It was easy to see he was being genuine last night, that he honestly wanted to hear what I had to say, but I didn’t exactly think past that conversation.
Now I can’t help but wonder if Noah could use a new friend as much as I need one.
Hurrying out of the shower, I throw on my favorite ‘death before decaf’ T-shirt and a pair of leggings. I run a comb through my long dark hair, brush my teeth, then grab my coffee and step out of the bathroom, wet-haired and fresh-faced.
Noah’s on the couch, as I expected, so I fall into the space beside him. He grins my way, passing me the ham breakfast sandwich and remote as he takes a bite of his own breakfast.
I look up at the TV as the commercial ends to find he’s about twenty minutes into the movie Grown Ups, so I toss the controller to the side and settle in to watch with him.
Once I’m done eating, I cradle my coffee in my palms, folding my legs up on the couch.
“Thank you, Noah,” I tell him again, peering at him over the rim of my cup when he looks my way. “For last night and today. For right now. I’ve locked myself away a lot lately, so it’s really nice to have you here.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
“I do.”
“You don’t.” Noah twists to face me. “I came because I wanted to.”
I let my head drop onto the cushion, smiling up at him. “Well, thank you anyway.”
A small shadow falls over his eyes, but he nods.
“I was too busy being a baby last night, I didn’t get to tell you, but you play like a boss.”
That brings a wide smile back to his face, but he turns away, shielding it from me.
“I’m serious. Your very first throw the first game and that quarterback keeper? So smooth.” I chuckle when he shakes his head, still not looking at me. “And last night, that Flea Flicker was genius. I feel like a jerk because I totally spaced on you being the main man until I saw you last night and remembered. You’re a badass, number nineteen.”
Noah’s mouth is still upturned, but he stays facing forward, only moving his eyes my way as he attempts to downplay his skill set. “Last night’s game was a tough one, but we did it. As a team.”
I pull my lips in to bite back my grin.
He’s so different from my brother and the boys. Mason would have said something along the lines of ‘hell yeah I’m a badass’ or added to the plays I listed, but I guess that’s not Noah’s style. He’s humble, and that’s rare, considering his position. For any athlete playing at this level, really.
He almost has this tortured soul vibe going on, but not the kind that makes you bitter or cruel. The kind that stems from loss and let downs, where you’re almost afraid to want because the universe might decide the jokes on you, and down another tor you tumble.
“Mason’s been killing it at practice,” he shares then, shifting the attention from himself. “He’s going to do really well if he keeps it up.”
I study his features, find not a hint of insincerity. He truly believes what he’s saying, and he speaks with no malice or jealousy, no threat or fear that he’ll lose his spot to the rookie superstar. And my brother is a superstar.
“You want him to do well.” I meant it as a statement, but the awe of the situation seeps into my tone, and it sounds like a question.
Noah’s head tugs back a little, taken off guard, and I almost worry I’ve offended him, but his chuckle soon follows, my muscles easing as a result.
“Hell yeah, I do.” He nods. “Mason’s got it. He’s good. Great even. We needed him tonight and he delivered better than expected, if I’m being honest. When I took that last hit, I had to step out. Their defense had my timing and footwork clocked by the fourth quarter. When that happens and we’ve got a solid second, it’s a no-brainer to make the swap. Mason went out there and shook ‘em up with ease.” He laughs, and, for some reason, the boyish sound makes me grin. “No one expected the rookie QB to come in there and raise hell, but he did. Showed ‘em up too.” He smiles, finally turning toward me.
I like his smile. It’s a pinch higher on the left, revealing a sliver of his white teeth. The hint of stubble along his jaw wasn’t there last night, and allows for a nice little shadow, helping his smile burn brighter, also making his eyes appear more aqua than midnight ocean waves.
“He’d be happy to hear that, but if you tell him, he’ll get an even bigger head,” I joke, and while Noah’s lips twitch, his features smooth.
After a moment, he nods, opening his mouth to speak, but he then he faces forward and clears his throat.
“I have to get going.” He pushes to his feet, looking over at me. “Sundays are a little busy for me.”
I nod.
What’s on Sundays?
Noah stands there a second longer and then gathers our garbage, heading toward the kitchen, but I stay where I am, watching.
It’s so strange he’s here in my space.
Not as strange as how it feels as natural as it does with the boys.
Noah reaches the door, pulls it open, and pins me with a smirk over his shoulder. “I put my number on a napkin and stuck it on the fridge. If you text me your number, maybe next time, I’ll call ahead.” With that, he winks and walks out.
Smiling, I push to my feet and grab said napkin. I make my way back to the couch, phone in hand, and I type out a text while hoping he doesn’t think my musical crackhead syndrome is too much. He said maybe he’d call next time so…
Me: here’s my number in case you want to, you know, call me … maybe.
I grin at my lyric of choice and wait for his reply.
Romeo: hahaha. Wanna know a secret?
Of course, I wanna know!
I respond a little more subtle.
Me: it’s not a secret if you tell me.
Romeo: I knew you were going to send me something about a song.
My brows pull in.
Romeo: Don’t frown.
What the…
I bite my lip and type out my next message.
Me: how?
Romeo: Well, Juliet, it won’t be a secret if I tell you.
Damn. I grin.
He’s good.
Noah leaves me in such a good mood this afternoon that I completely forget what Sundays are about for my crew, and a couple hours later, while I’m still sitting in the spot Noah left me, the door to my dorm opens.
My lungs seize as Cameron steps in, Mason and Brady right behind her. The door begins to close, and I grab the blanket, covering my lap tighter as it grows closer and closer to the frame, but the second it touches, it’s shoved back open again.
Chase steps inside, his eyes instantly finding mine.
Shit.
Considering they found me lounging with a pile of blankets and a half-eaten box of pin wheels, tossing out a random excuse was a no-go, which is why I’m now sandwiched between Mason and Brady, who just dropped onto my living room couch, pretending I planned to be here all along.
Mason wraps his arm around my shoulder and tugs me to him with a playful growl. “Miss you, sister. Feel like I see less and less of you. It bites.”
A sharp pain knocks against my rib cage and I look to my brother, guilt heavy in my mind, but a smile on my lips. “Me too, brother.” I hug him, shoving him away when he bites at my scalp.
“What the hell?” I laugh, and he smirks, snagging the remote from my lap and switching over to ESPN. Of course.
“How’s that study group going?” Brady calls, and I look his way. His gaze is narrowed, aware I’m a big fat liar, so I do the one thing he’s asking for.
I nod in admission.
Brady nods back, yanks me to him and kisses my hair, stealing the other half of my blanket as he straightens.
Chase files over next, and I lift my hand to wave, but he does what I don’t expect, leaning over for a hug. So I hug him back as I have a hundred times before, only it feels the furthest thing from normal.
It aches.
I don’t know if it’s his way of keeping up appearances, but the way his grip tightens on me, and how his palms widen across my back, makes it feels like a plea, but I couldn’t tell you for what if I tried.
When he pulls back, I quickly turn to glance over my shoulder at Cameron as an excuse to hide the unease in my eyes before he has a chance to look into them.
“You need help?” I offer, ready to jump from my seat.
Everyone laughs, and I frown.
“Ha freaking ha, I am not useless.” I shove Mason, and he only laughs more.
“No, honey cakes, you’re not,” Cameron placates me teasingly. “But I cooked the last two weeks, so it’s officially their turn.”
And cue more guilt.
From there, thank god, the boys get straight to work, cutting produce they brought and frying burgers, and Brady delivers on his mom’s famous homemade garlic fries. Cam and I pull some plates and drinks out as they’re finishing up.
We settle around the small kitchen, and I finally get to hear some of the stories the boys have from their first couple months here, laughing at Brady’s horrible luck in picking up bat-shit crazy women. We play a few games of our favorite dice game, Tizy, next, and then settle into the living room with root beer floats.
A soft sigh leaves me as I peek around the room, realizing how much I miss this, how much I miss them.
I gasp when something cold hits my thigh and Brady’s eyes widen.
“Shit!” He looks to his tipped over drink, still spilling into my lap.
I wave my hands up and down and the others laugh. “It’s so cold!”
They scurry around for napkins, but it’s Chase that lifts one, and as he passes it over, he does a double take.
My muscles lock as his frown slowly builds.
Cameron swoops in, tossing a towel at me, and I jump, making quick work of wiping it with one hand and yanking the still extended napkin from Chase’s hand… all to have it torn away by Cameron.
She zeros in on Noah’s name and number, her head snapping my way.
Please don’t.
“Yes.” She drags out the word with a hiss, being over dramatic as she eases it to the floor beside her. “Let’s not lose this.”
It takes all I’ve got not to glance at Chase, but when I finally do, I’m relieved to find his eyes pointed at the TV, and then I get annoyed with myself for assuming he might care.
Not five minutes after that, I’m painstakingly reminded why I’ve skipped Sunday dinners and everything else for that matter as Mason starts talking to Chase about the girls from their party last night… and their walk of shame this morning.
My stomach turns, and for the first time today, last night’s alcohol threatens to show itself. Heat builds in my chest, spreading up my neck, and I’m about to start sweating.
I want to cover my ears. I want to get up and run out before anything else is said, but I can’t. The others will look at me like I’m mad, and then they’ll get mad and demand a reason for my freak out, but I can’t sit here. I don’t want to sit here.
I—
My phone beeps then, and I hastily pick it up, finding a text from Noah.
Romeo: I’ve been thinking and there’s something I should tell you.
Oh no.
I pull my knees up, a small scowl building along my brow.
Me: go for it.
His response is instant.
Romeo: I hate caramel flavored coffee.
A laugh spurts from me, and in my peripheral, all eyes snap my way, but I don’t look up, not even when a certain pair of green ones burn into the side of my face.
I settle in my seat with a smile and text my new friend back.
Bless you and your perfect timing, Noah Riley.
