Page 79 of Arctic Titans of Northwood U: Volume 1

Too eager and interested, I criticized internally.

“I’m here on a football scholarship,” the guy said.

Fucking hell. I rolled my eyes and busied myself with my red ale. Did he really want to go for an athlete? And a football jock at that? That was a big bite for anyone, especially if it was their first time.

I had expected Noah to go for a hot geek. Someone who would match his genius and challenge him. Not a dull football chaser. If he wanted a slow-but-sexy athlete, there were plenty more attainable ones to choose from. And with better reputations than the football fuckboys.

He could have picked a nice swimmer.

Or a bat swinger.

Or a hockey player? Preferably a goalie? Whose thought was that? Definitely not mine, I was sure. It made no sense. I mean, I didn’t even like the guy. Sure, he was cute. And hot. And beautiful when he wore his baggy hoodie that hid his body like a gem you needed to work for. And he was funny and smart and kind. Something about him made me want to wrap him in bubble wrap and hold him until it was safe to come out.

Which was never. Football jocks would pry and lurk. They’d want to take advantage of Noah because he’s so sweet and smart in all the academic ways, but not at all in the ways of guarding his heart.

“They don’t really come around,” Noah said and I realized I hadn’t been paying enough attention. The girl was pretending I didn’t exist and the jock was chuckling in that deep, attractive voice that made me want to mock his bass. “They sort of made me into who I am,” Noah was explaining. The biggest perk of a tavern like this was that music wasn’t dominating the space. Chatter filled the warm air inside and The Eagles’ Hotel California played softly in the background, but I could hear Noah fairly clear.

He was sharing his life story with this stranger who didn’t know him. It was very sweet of Noah, but it was a crucial mistake. He would either open his vulnerabilities to a random stranger or get mocked. Sharing stories of family was something I did with few of my dates and none of my hookups. It took safety and trust to open up like that. And I feared Noah was opening up to someone who couldn’t appreciate it.

“I won this thing, this Physics Olympiad, when I was fourteen. It’s not a big deal unless you are really into it, then it’s pretty much like — what d’you call it? — that thing you watch every year that has all the expensive and funny ads.”

“The Super Bowl?” The jock asked, chuckling.

Noah snapped his fingers. “Yes. That. I won the Super Bowl of physics and, um, that became the base minimum they expect from me. I never won another one. And frankly, I didn’t need to, if we’re honest. I got my scholarship and all the connections I would ever need if I just keep studying hard. But it’s never enough.”

My heart cracked.

It was hard for me to imagine something like that. My parents were, if anything, too mindful of my needs. They’d spent all these years fussing over me, blowing wind into my wings no matter what I wanted to achieve. And whenever I failed, they were there to encourage me to get back up to my feet. They didn’t have much to give in a way many students on this campus could flaunt, but they had given me more than enough. They’d given me a soft landing, no matter how tall my fall was.

It could hurt, for sure. Sometimes, it felt like seeing their disappointment would be easier than suffering through their spinning of all the ways my failure was “for the better, actually.” But when I heard Noah, I realized how lucky I was.

Why hadn’t he told me that? We’d spent countless hours in his room and he’d never mentioned his parents. Was he blowing this date on purpose? Or was the beer I’d ordered for him too strong?

I snuck a glance at his empty glass and my heart sank. Just then, the dusty blond jock threw his hand onto Noah’s shoulder and gave an infuriating little rub. “That sucks.”

Noah shrugged, oblivious to the true meaning of the touch, apparently. “You get used to it. I’m glad I’m independent.”

And you will remain independent if it’s the last thing I do, I thought, then realized I was about to make him independent of a possible date.

“I wish I could do something to cheer you up,” the jock said. By now, I’d turned all the way to face Noah’s back and the interested jock’s front. His hand on Noah’s shoulder made me boil with anger. You don’t know how to treat him well, I snarled internally. You’ll never know how to make him feel good. And you’ll never know how to cheer him up.

I tapped the jock’s hand and gave him my most plastic smile. “‘Scuse me. Pardon me. I need a minute with my friend.”

“And you are?” the jock asked, but Noah was already turning around, blinking wildly and gazing at me like he was trying to communicate with me wordlessly. Alas, I didn’t understand what he was saying with his eyes.

I ignored the jock altogether and focused on Noah. “We gotta abort.”

“Wh-what? I mean, yes. Okay.” He got up, then glanced at the jock with a confused look on his cute face like the spell had been broken. “Sorry. My friend needs me.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll see you around or…” But neither of us heard the rest of what the jock was saying as we filed out of the tavern. The cold air bit my nostrils as soon as we stepped outside, the chatter dying behind the closed doors, but I didn’t stop there.

I kept walking and Noah was catching up with my furious stride. Oh, but I was furious. I was mad at the whole world for some goddamn reason. Whatever it was, it drove me crazy; all my worst impulses were taking hold of me. I wanted to get into a brawl for no other reason than to lash out.

That fucker was such a familiar kind of player that it was disgusting. I knew every trick he’d pulled. He ran into a vulnerable, adorable guy, let him talk, showed fake interest, then made physical contact while hinting at all the crazy, sexy things he could do to make the cute guy feel better. Ugh. Every fuckboy in town had done that trick at least once.

It was cheap.

And Noah didn’t deserve cheap tricks.