Practically flew out of me.
Because Noah isn’t just flirting with me. He’s majorly flirting with me. And right here, in front of his sister. His sister!
And Mohammad.
He’s gone from joking and occasionally flirting to something way different.
He’s being unfair. And direct. And hot.
Really, really hot.
And I am not about to question it.
“You really think you have such a huge effect on me, don’t you?” I say, trying to keep my cool.
“I know I do.” Noah’s eyes crease at the corners as he smiles. “You know what I was thinking about?”
“What?”
“Do you remember me mauling you that one day?” he says, his cheeks flushing.
“Almost mauling me,” I correct. “I made it out, unscathed.”
Noah nods. “That’s true. I know you liked it though.”
“What exactly did I like about it?” I push, thinking back to how Noah’s head was tucked into my neck. How his breath was warm and his teeth were all over my skin.
“Being slobbered on.” Noah laughs.
My lips pull into an amused frown, and I shake my head. “You’re disgusting.”
“Whatever I am, you love it.”
Noah holds my gaze, and it feels like the whole world is looking back at me in his eyes. And I don’t understand it. How is this possible? What’s going on with him? With me? With us?
“What happened to you between last night and now?” I ask, trying to figure out the change.
“Well, you asked—” Noah says, sounding unsure of himself.
I cut him off, “It’s a good thing.”
“It’s what you want, right?” Noah’s brows draw in with his question.
“Is it what you want?” I ask.
“This, with you, is easy. It’s the friends part that I might have a bit of trouble with,” Noah answers.
“Being friends is asking too much?”
“Too much?” Noah repeats, blinking a few times. But then he refocuses. “Did you … like my gift?”
“I wish you had stayed.”
“Stayed?” Noah repeats, looking more cheerful again. “You had a pretty full house, birthday girl.”
“Full hotel room,” I correct. “But what does that have to do with it?”
“Some things are private,” Noah says.
The school bell rings out, cutting off our conversation.
Mohammad pulls the earbud out of his ear, nodding his head.
“So, are you into it?” Mia asks him excitedly.
“Totally,” Mohammad says, still tapping his foot on the ground. “He’s got some great tracks.”
“Well, he’s got a gig in a few weeks. We should all go,” Mia says, looking between the three of us. “It’s at a shit place, and we’ll probably be the only ones there, but seriously, he’s going to be a star someday.”
“I’m so down,” Mohammad agrees, pulling his backpack onto his shoulder.
Mia and Noah are both looking at me, apparently waiting for an answer.
“Yeah, I’d love to,” I reply.
“Great.” Mia grins, shoving her phone into her bag. She’s glowing, and it’s easy to tell she’s happy about other people liking his music. “I can’t wait.”
“It will be fun,” Noah agrees, glancing at me as we walk to class.
Weasel my way.
Statistics
“So, if I had been alone, what would it have been like?” The question is out of my mouth before I can stop it.
Because Noah is so talkative and flirty this morning that I’m hoping he can clarify a few things from last night. A few things from this morning. Like what he meant by privacy. We were alone out in the hallway last night.
Was that not private enough?
“We would have … celebrated,” he replies, sliding into his regular desk.
I drop my bag onto the ground and look at him. “My birthday?”
“Of course.” Noah laughs.
I shake my head at myself. Of course he meant my birthday.
What was I thinking?
It’s just that something about him is making me nervous. Usually, I’m relaxed with him. We’ve always been able to talk. We’ve never set boundaries because I never thought that they were necessary. But now, I feel like I’m floating in a pool of whens and ifs. There are too many paths, outcomes, possibilities. And the probability of what is going to happen is so unclear.
I flip open my stats textbook, my hate for the subject returning.
“What?” Noah asks.
“I just feel aimless this week. Like I don’t know up from down,” I admit.
“All you have to do is check your feet,” he quips.
“I can’t look at my feet,” I say to my textbook. “I’m distracted. And confused.”
“By me?” Noah asks.
“Well, yeah.”
“I can’t be your fixed point, Mal,” he says, drawing my eyes up from my textbook.
“I’m not asking you to be.”
“Even if I wanted to be, you have to find your own footing first.”
I swallow. Because he’s right. I know he’s right. “It’s just—”
“You’re a romantic,” Noah finishes.
“I am not,” I say way too fast, feeling like my eyes are about to pop out of my head.
“You are. And you’re flushed again.” Noah’s holding back his smile as he looks toward me.
“And you’re annoying,” I reply. “I hate to break it to you, but you are not about to weasel your way back into my life, okay? You made it very clear this week how you felt about me. And you made it very clear last night that you didn’t—”
Noah doesn’t let me finish. “Weasel my way back in?”
“Yes. Weasel. Your. Way. Back. In.” I point my finger at him with each word for emphasis.
Noah licks his lip as he watches me, and it breaks my concentration. It sends a small crack through my frustration. I don’t know why his mouth always catches my attention or why I find so much interest in his lips. Their shape. Their color.
“And I …”
“Don’t get distracted,” Noah says quietly.
“I’m not,” I reply, trying to collect myself.
Trying to remember what I was even saying.
“You were,” Noah disagrees, shaking his head. “But I’ll let this one slide.”
“What do you want?”
“I want to know if you thought about me over the weekend,” he says.
“You never crossed my mind.” I stick my chin out at him, willing my eyes to become glass. To become impenetrable.
“I don’t believe that,” Noah says, his eyes growing playful.
“You can believe what you want.” I cross my arms over my chest in defense. “Your beliefs don’t bother me.”
“Hmm.” Noah pushes out his lips, seemingly not convinced.
“What did you think? That I was just lying in bed, dreaming about you? Yeah, right.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” Noah says, looking me over. “You know I can see right through you.”