I consider making a joke, but choose honesty instead.
“I feel really awkward just standing around in a corner by myself.”
“You could talk to people.” He smiles, not like he’s making fun of me, but like he thinks I’m adorable.
“I don’t get the concept of talking to people without having something to say. Like I walk up to someone and just what? Say hi and stand there hoping they play along? Then I tend to babble nonsense when I’m nervous, and why would anyone listen to that?”
“Maybe because they’re also interested in you and want to strike up a conversation?”
“There’s nothing about me that’s interesting,” I argue. My family, yes. But me? It’s not like I was turning down invitations before this, unless you count my brother’s old teammates.
“You’re literally writing a freaking book right now. That’s cool.”
He looks genuinely impressed, and I’m sure I blush, but he’s in the minority.
“Most people just think I’m really intense about journaling.” They sometimes comment on how small my handwriting is, but the few times I’ve admitted I’m writing a book, they lost interest as soon as I said I hadn’t been published yet.
“Even that is intriguing,” he tells me. “My point is that you rule yourself out before giving anyone the chance to see how awesome you are.”
I want to argue and remind him that I’m not awesome, but Noah’s not looking at me like my brothers, who are super biased and wouldn’t hang out with me if we weren’t related. He looks at me like he means it, and wants to know more about me. Which is terrifying
“Let’s get you a drink.”
He takes my hand and leads me upstairs to the kitchen. “We have lots of alcohol…” I hesitate, but he moves on before I can decide to be adventurous. “Holiday themed cocktails, or I found these really cool watermelon drinks that are slightly out of season, but if you mix it with this fake gin and a splash of club soda, it’s really tasty.”
It’s exactly what I drink during summer pool parties, or whenever everyone is drinking and expects me to join in, which is why Parker had it at his birthday party. I don’t know if this is a crazy coincidence, if Noah knows something, or if he just saw me with it at the party.
“The watermelon gin sounds great,” I thank him. “Why aren’t you drinking?”
“A bunch of us had an exam this morning, so we’ve been pre-drinking at Slapshots all afternoon.”
“Meaning you’re drunk.”
“I’m sobering up,” he argues.
“Why? It’s a party. At your house. You should be letting loose.”
“Then there would be no one to watch the team,” Noah argues, but he looks at me like that isn’t really it, so I wait. “And I promised to take you home if you’re not having fun. You are though, right?”
“I am,” I assure him, trying not to wear my beating heart on my sleeve at that confession.
“Good.”
He takes my hand again and brings me around, introducing me to his teammates as his friend Savannah, but he’s holding my hand while he does it. The guys are super nice, some of them even fake flirting to get a rise out of Noah, but some people look at me like the kids in high school when I’d show up with my brothers. Like they’re wondering what the captain of the hockey team is doing with someone like me. But I don’t want to go home and let them win, I want Noah to keep holding my hand, to put his on my lower back as he guides me through the crowd, making me feel like his.
Chapter Thirty-One
Noah
Quick and Easy
She’s here.
And I’m a little drunk. Not blackout, but enough that I have no chill, and all I want to do is put my hands on Savannah. I’m holding her hand, grazing her arm, tucking hair behind her ear, and putting a possessive hand on her lower back, both when no one’s looking, and when someone is looking too much. It feels a little too good, like something I could get used to. It makes me want to grab another beer, so I have an excuse to keep touching her, and to suggest she stay over again. But I also want to sober up, because I don’t want a sloppy, drunk make out session tonight, I want to rock her world.
My teammates have been ribbing me about her for weeks, but they manage to hold it back and play it cool when they meet her, most of them pretending like they have no idea who the fuck she is, which is impressive. It’s stupid to want her on my arm in front of these guys, when I really want her to myself upstairs, but for one night, it feels nice to pretend I can have that. To see what it would be like if she really was mine. Plus, the guys saw me drink enough earlier that I can pretend I don’t remember what happened tomorrow. But I want to remember every minute.
Sav has been taking it like she has no problem with and might even enjoy my affectionate drunk side, which is probably my biggest problem, because the last thing I want to do is hurt her, but I’m sending out a fuck ton of mixed signals.
