“My friend Aaron is a fantastic artist. He’s going to release his first album next month, and he sent me a few of his songs early. You have to hear them! He’s ridiculously talented,” she says, dragging me to the couch.
I glance back at Mohammad. He gives me a smile and looks genuinely interested.
It’s not until Mia’s pulling me down onto a couch next to her that I see Noah. He’s seated opposite us, his left leg crossed over his right. I barely have a chance to register his presence before Mia is shoving an earbud into my ear. She puts the other in hers, turning toward me excitedly.
“Are you ready to have your mind blown?” she asks.
At first, I want to laugh, but she looks so serious that my smile fades, and I nod in agreement. She turns on the music, and I make sure to really pay attention.
My first thought is that Aaron has got a great voice and that I like his style—a mix of rap and pop. I bob my head along, smiling over at Mia in encouragement. She’s silently singing along, and I watch her lips move with each lyric. I smile at her again before glancing across to the other couch.
Mohammad sat down next to Noah, but their attention is on us. Mohammad is watching Mia. Noah keeps his head straight, his eyes moving between me and his sister. Every few seconds though, he leans toward Mohammad, telling him something.
I pull my eyes away from them.
After three songs, I take out the earbud and give it back to Mia.
“It’s really good,” I admit.
“I know.” Mia nods, her eyes glowing with pride. “He’s so talented. A true storyteller.”
“I like the way that he mixes genres too. It’s cool to hear that.”
“That’s what Noah said,” Mia replies, her eyes moving to her brother and then to Mohammad, who’s getting up from the couch.
He comes over and pulls me up.
“Trade spots. I want to hear,” he says, taking my seat on the couch. “I’m always looking for new music.”
“You and your music,” I comment, feeling slightly abandoned. I consider just standing there, but I know that would be silly. And it would probably freak him and Mia out.
I turn around, eyeing the empty spot next to Noah. It’s the obvious option unless I want to move to a different section, which would just be weird.
Noah looks up at me, waiting to see what I’ll do.
I step away from Mohammad and Mia and take a seat next to him. I look across at Mohammad, who’s totally into the music. Mia looks thrilled, and when I glance over at Noah, I see that he’s watching Mohammad too. He lets out a chuckle before greeting me.
“Morning,” Noah says with a smile.
“Morning.” My voice is full of hesitation as I fold my hands into my lap.
I keep my gaze down, trying to ignore the heat coming off of Noah. It’s hard enough, sitting next to him in class, but sitting next to him on the couch? It’s even worse. We’re closer than usual. And after being pressed against him last night and my dream this morning …
“You all right?” Noah asks, his hand coming down onto my arm. I glance over at it, feeling his fingers burn into my skin. “You don’t look very good.”
I break my eyes away from his fingertips, moving them toward his face.
“Oh, really?” I ask.
Noah shakes his head. “I mean, you look tired,” he clarifies.
“I am. Late night and all that.”
“That’s not it,” he disagrees.
He searches my face, his forehead creasing. I try to hide from his prying eyes, but I can’t. My face falls. I know he isn’t going to drop this.
“I had a nightmare,” I say.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asks. And I can hear the concern in his voice.
I glance around, seeing more students pouring into the common room. And with Mia and Mohammad sitting straight across from us, I feel like I’m under a microscope.
“Not right now.”
Noah must understand because he gives me a small smile. I want to smile back, but instead, I look down at my hands in my lap. Because every single cell in me is confused.
Noah bumps his shoulder against mine. “We can talk anytime, you know. That’s what friends are for, right?”
“Friends?” I repeat. Because is that what last night was to him?
Us being friends?
“I know what your problem is,” he says.
“You do?” I ask, looking toward him. Because maybe he actually has the answer that I’m looking for.
“Mmhmm.” Noah nods. “You’re missing the battle of the bathroom, I think.”
His brown eyes are all over me, making me extremely nervous.
“I can’t do this with you, Noah.”
“Do what?” he asks.
“This.” I point between him and me, shaking my head.
I’ve never felt so … off. After last night’s interaction with Noah and my dream, I don’t know if I want to smile at him or start crying. My emotions are everywhere right now. I feel all over the place.
I feel like a mess.
Noah watches my hand move between us, his golden-brown eyes growing flat.
“Are you trying to say that the battle of the bathroom wasn’t a thing?” he finally asks.
His response lessens my tension, and suddenly, my chest feels lighter.
Because this—here, with Noah, the lightness between us—is real.
I roll my eyes at him and play along. “Please. Competing for bathroom time with you is the last thing I miss about your house.”
“Maybe so,” he replies, leaning toward me. “But I know you have to miss seeing me in only a towel.”
I can’t help but feel happy when I see the sparkle in Noah’s eyes and the silly grin on his face. He raises his eyebrows at me in question.
“Noah. Williams.”
“Yeah?” he replies, his gaze never leaving mine.
“Are you flirting with me?” I narrow my eyes at him.
Noah shakes his head, but it isn’t convincing. And his silly smile turns into a full-blown grin. He lets out a deep chuckle. “Never. I wouldn’t dare.”
I feel stuck, looking at him. I can’t imagine what my face looks like right now, but it has to be a funny sight to see. I’m so confused. And annoyed. And kind of happy. And annoyed that I’m happy. A smile grows on my own lips.
“You are.” I laugh.
I give his shoulder a push, my cheeks flushing before I glance over at Mohammad and Mia. They’re watching us, but the second I catch them, they quickly look away.
“And if I am? Is that really so bad?” Noah looks at me through his dark lashes, his neck jutting out as he tilts his head back.
And I know the look well. It’s his are you really going to argue with me look.
“Um …”
“Besides, I’m not flirting. I’m just telling you a truth from our past experience.”
“Why bring it up then?” I cut in.
“Because you looked sad when you got here. And you always look happy when you’re yelling at me. Banging on the bathroom door. Calling out my name.” His voice drops as his eyes flick up to mine. “Finding me shirtless … and wet.”
I think my heart stops. Or maybe it rips out of my chest and flees. Or maybe it hops straight into his hand. I have no clue. All I know is that my chest feels like it just broke open and my heart has left me.