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.