Page 72 of Praising the Pitcher

With the way the storm is looking and how slippery the roads already were on our way here, I’m not sure that’ll be an option, but I agreed anyway. Mostly because I needed to get out of the Kings’ house and put some distance between Noah and me.

I think that’s probably why Haven didn’t fight me too long on leaving—she understood why I wouldn’t want to be in the same house as her brother. When I was getting ready for my … outing with Benny, I spilled my guts, telling her I only agreed to it out of spite because her brother told me I should, after kissing me and leaving me confused as hell. And she could feel the tension after the Yankee Swap too. I know she hated for me to leave, especially when the weather conditions suck, but deep down, she understood why I had to do it. Even if she didn’t say the words out loud.

The house was dark coming in, and I hated the feeling that filled my gut. But now that I’m in my room, smutty Christmas book in hand, I’m feeling much better.

Well, kind of.

With every word I read, I don’t retain any of it. I just keep thinking about the stupid snow globe and the stupid kiss.

And how I had to tell Benny I didn’t want to be anything more than friends because I just didn’t see him that way.

I pull my plush blanket a little higher over me, having it clear to my chin, and attempt to start the same page for the fourth time—hoping this time, it’ll stick.

Suddenly, something hits the window and I drop my book, pulling the blanket up just under my eyes.

“What was that?” I whisper, my lip trembling.

I’ve already been a nervous wreck being here at The Nest ever since everything went down with Haven and Tabor. But now, add in I’m alone and it’s almost ten o’clock at night? I’m a wreck.

When something else hits the window, I peek over to see what looks like a snowball. I don’t go over though, afraid it’s a crazy person who’s just trying to lure me in. I’m already on the verge of a breakdown when my phone vibrates loudly on the nightstand, and I think I actually let a scream of panic come from my lips.

Looking around, I finally reach for my phone. And to be honest, I’m not sure if the message staring back at me is better or worse than a crazy person telling me he’s outside ready to kidnap me.

Noah: Come to the window.

Noah: Please.

I stare at the messages, knowing nothing good could come of us talking tonight. Emotions are high. Well, my emotions are high. I’ll probably say mean things.

Noah: If not, I’ll just come through the front door, Smoke. Not my first time carding a door.

My teeth grind together from irritation because what could he possibly want right now? Either way, talking with him out the window is probably a better idea than us being in the same room. Especially when all I can think about is his lips …

Throwing my blanket off, I shuffle toward the window. Through the glass, I see him, his hoodie on, looking up at me with a snowball in his hand like he’s about to throw another. When he sees me, he drops it down and tucks his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie.

Leave it to him not to have a jacket on when it’s basically a blizzard outside right now.

Flipping the lock, I push up on the window. Right away, a blast of freezing air rushes inside and I shiver.

“What do you want, Noah?” I call out, leaned over the windowsill just enough to stare down at him. “It better be good. I was reading.”

And not retaining any of it, but I’m not going to admit that to him.

“I’m sorry,” he yells back, and through the snow, I can hardly make out his face, but I know his sharp jaw is angled upward at me. I know he isn’t saying sorry for interrupting my reading though.

His stupid sharp jawline he got from his dad …

“Great, thanks,” I say, nodding. “If that’s all⁠—”

“Can I come up?” He cuts me off. “Please?”

I pause, knowing I truly don’t think I can take the embarrassment of having him push me away again and telling me to give another guy—a teammate of his—a chance a second time.

“Why?” I say, the sound of defeat way more evident than I’d like it to be. “So you can humiliate me again? Maybe try to hook me up with the kicker this time instead?”

His gaze hardens. “Fuck no. You’re not going anywhere near that asshole,” he grumbles then sighs. “Can I please come in?” He juts his chin toward the sky. “You’re losing heat by the second with the window open, and I can hardly see because it’s snowing so hard.”

I look up at the ceiling at nothing in particular, just to avoid looking down at him and folding at the knees. Finally, I blow out a breath.