I run into David, then Michael, and reassure Colt I don’t need him to extricate himself from a scantily-clad woman to say hi to me.
“You’re Savannah.” Someone stops me in the living room. I sort of recognize him as one of Noah’s teammates, mostly because he has his arm wrapped around Lacey.
“The goalie, right?”
“I’m Darren,” he agrees with a warm smile. “And this is Lacey.” He pulls her closer to kiss her temple, and she looks at him like I’m sure I look at Noah.
“Pleasure.” I’m about to ask what Noah told him about me, when he explains.
“I see you in the stands with Izzie.”
My heart sinks. Of course Noah didn’t say anything.
“She’s awesome.” I put on a smile.
“Noah’s so protective of her. Always has been. Rarely lets anyone help.” I get the feeling he’s trying to reassure me, and I want to believe him, but it’s also hard to figure out where we stand when there’s so much back and forth. Though he has been pretty consistent about wanting me here tonight, even if he says it’s for my book.
“Likes to do it all himself,” I agree.
“It makes him a great captain.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“But I’m glad he has you outside of it.”
“Oh, he does. I…we’re friends.”
“Friends are the best, right babe?” Lacey asks.
“She’s teasing because I was an idiot who thought I could bury my feelings for her into a friendship.”
“You guys are adorable together.”
“It’s all her,” he tells me. “I think Noah’s downstairs.”
“Thank you.”
“See you at the next game,” Lacey tells me before I go to the basement.
* * *
They’ve moved most of the furniture to the walls to make it more like a party area with the tiniest of dance floors. This is where the music is coming from, and where the rowdiest are contained so the neighbors aren’t bothered by the noise. Not that Mabel would ever complain, but it’s nice of them to be considerate.
“Savannah!” Noah calls as soon as he spots me. My first thought is that he’s drunk, but when he comes closer, he’s drinking water and smells like soap. “You came.”
He wraps his arms around me and I’m so surprised it takes me a moment to hug him back. There are at least forty people in the basement, when he usually won’t even hug me in front of his roommates.
“You didn’t give me much of a choice,” I point out.
“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t look it.
“It’s fine. Sometimes I need a push to do things.”
“Things you want to do?” he verifies.
“Sometimes.” I smile.
“What is it about parties you don’t like?”
