God help me, I don’t know how many more times I can do that without falling apart.
Noah
Iwalkinsideandsee Ryan waiting in the foyer, leaning against a wall. He grins when he sees me. “Your bags are in your room,” he says, tilting his head to the side. “So, how’d that go?”
I give him a withering look that I wish would stab him. “I hate you so much.”
“Love you too,” he replies without missing a beat, handing me the bottle of water in his hand. “Nice reunion, by the way. Tense. Sexy. Dramatic. I give it an eight.”
“You’re actually evil,” I mutter, twisting the cap off the bottle. “You didn’t tell me he lived here.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Would you have come if I did?”
“No.”
“Exactly.” He smirks. “You’re welcome. You two need to sort your shit out anyway. It’s painful watching two emotionally constipated idiots orbit each other for years.”
I roll my eyes. “Ryan.”
“What?” he says, holding his hands up. “I’m just saying, maybe it’s time. You’re both adults now. Deal with it.”
“I don’t want to deal with it,” I scowl.
“Yeah, you do.” His grin softens into something almost sympathetic. “You’re just scared of what happens after.”
I don’t answer because he’s right. I always hated that about him.
He gestures toward the stairs. “Come on, your room’s up there at the end of the hall.”
The room is bigger than I expected, with more space than I ever even wanted or needed. The ceilings are too high, the windows too tall, and all the furniture looks new. It’s too polished for a place meant to house college athletes. It smells like cedar and something faintly expensive.
I would know. My mother’s house smells like this, too.
I’m busy unpacking the last of my things when there’s a knock on my door. My heart starts racing for no reason, but when Ryan steps inside, that anxiety turns to annoyance.
I ignore him when he casually leans against the doorframe, watching me. He always does that; he waits me out until I have no choice but to acknowledge him.
“You good?” he finally asks when I don’t give him what he wants, and I close my eyes, breathing out a long-suffering sigh.
“Define good,” I say, then turn back to my drawer and pretend it demands more attention than the conversation—or him. I know what he means, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of admitting to it.
Ryan huffs out a laugh, crossing the room to flop down on my bed. “You know what I mean.”
I shove a hoodie onto a coat hanger, keeping my back to him. “I’m unpacking, that’s all.”
“That’s not all, and you know it,” he says, and I can hear the grin in his voice even though I refuse to look at him. “You’re still rattled after seeing Moore in the driveway. Admit it—”
“I’m not rattled,” I cry out, whipping around to face him. “I just wish you had the fucking decency to tell me I’ll be living under the same roof as—”
“Why? So you could bail again?” he asks, sitting up, and his smirk slips. “So you could go live with your mother and have your life dictated through calorie rationing?”
The words land way too close to the bone. “Don’t—”
“No, Noah, you need this,” he interjects. “You two need to sort out your shit before you both lose your minds.”
I turn away from him and grip the edge of the dresser, my knuckles turning white. “I’m not doing this with you right now, Ryan. I can’t… You know how bad it got last time.”
“Noah…” he trails off, and I shake my head.
