“Hey, Iris. Haven’t seen you in a while,” Ezekiel says while tilting his chin mid-stretch, making me flinch. I was so focused on Noah I didn’t even notice him.
I stop in my tracks. “Hey, Zeke. Yeah…I um…”
He raises an eyebrow as he pushes up from the mat on the floor, his taut tawny skin on display since he is shirtless. “You were trying to avoid a certain someone?” He’s not subtle at all when he flicks his gaze toward Noah.
I play into it. I’ve never been so grateful for being a love-sick fool for years than in this moment. “Something like that. So what, is all the Order privy to my personal life now?” I offer a brittle smile as I fold my arms over my chest.
“No, but Noah has looked fucking miserable because you ghosted him these past few days. He got a taste of his medicine,huh?”
I scoff bitterly—for this, I don’t have to pretend. “Yeah, like one percent of it. Maybe even less.”
There’s a pause as if he’s pondering his words before he continues, “I took him out to a bar last night. We talked. A lot. Then we got smashed.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “Listen, I’m not going to sit here and tell you to forgive him because if I were you, and Christina pulled something like that on me…fuck, I don’t know if I could ever move past it. What I’m saying is maybe let him show you how sorry he is. He really is suffering, Iris.”
I look to the ceiling, suck on my teeth, then back at him. “I’ll think about it.”
He drops the hand. “I’ve got to go.” Ezekiel gives me a warm smile, his dark eyes wrinkling at the corners before he turns on his heel. “And don’t you dare flake on me again! I miss the challenge. No one spars as ruthlessly as you,” he half-yells over his shoulder.
I stride toward Noah. The smell of last night’s alcohol seeping from his pores is so potent that I feel the urge to breathe through my mouth. He turns before I get the chance to make my presence known, his T-shirt plastered to his body, accentuating every ridge of sinewy muscle and his trim waist. Droplets of sweat rain down from his forehead onto the rubber floor as he bends for the water bottle. He gulps down half of it.
Angry music blasts from his headphones, so he bends again to pick up his phone, then taps on the screen to pause it. “I didn’t think you would show up, so I started without you,” he grits out, equal parts anger and hurt thick in his tone.
“Sorry it took me so long. I had something I needed to take care of first.” I force my fingers to relax when they restart their nervous dance against my thigh, then clear my throat. “Actually, I need your help.”
His eyebrows furrow. “With what?”
“You’re staying here at the compound, right?”
Pushing a wet lock of hair out of his eyes, he says. “Yeah, I have a room on the second floor.”
“Can we go talk there?” I ask.
“Why? What about—”
“Please, Noah. We can do the sparring or the hand-to-hand some other time.”
A muscle jumps in his cheek before he mutters, “Fine. Let’s go.”
We don’t talk on the way to his room. I’m too busy running through different scenarios in my head. Noah opening the door snaps me out of my racing thoughts. He lets me pass first before closing it at his back. Sunlight filters through the stained-glass windows, painting the floor in an array of vivid colors. Tiny flecks of dust whirl in them.
The room is spacious but almost spartan. A double bed sits in the middle, flanked by two white oak bedside tables and a matching dresser pushed against the wall on my left. The only sign that Noah has been living in it is his phone charger in the outlet next to the bed.
“Can it wait until I take a shower?” Noah asks as he bypasses me.
I saw my lower lip between my teeth. “Sure.”
He nods and disappears through the semi-open door at my left. I plop down on the bed, the pristine white sheets crinkling on my sides. Ten minutes pass before Noah gets out of the bathroom. He’s wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist, his damp hair pushed to the side. Again, I expect that ember of heat to rekindle at the expanse of rippling muscles in front of me, but there’s zip. Zilch. Nada. Old Iris would have had a heart attack if she saw Noah almost naked. New Iris is blissfully apathetic.
He smirks when he catches me staring, though, then strides to the dresser. Heat does crawl on the back of my neck the moment he drops the towel at his feet. However, it’s not the good kind. It only makes me uncomfortable.
“What are you doing?” I croak, averting my gaze, my eyes drilling a hole through the wall in front of me.
“What does it look like? I’m getting dressed,” he replies, chuckling. His right thigh grazes mine when he takes a seat next to me. He’s the first to break the awkward silence. “So, what do you want to talk about?”
“As I said, I need your help.”
He tilts his head, waiting for me to speak again.
The proximity to Noah is blistering through every layer of my skin, so I stand up to pace the room. “I need you to trade places with Tessa on our shifts for the first half of next week.”
