Chapter 24
Noah lived on the cusp of Haven and Jefferson, about a twenty-minute drive from Ashton’s place.
There were more people on the road than I’d thought for eleven at night, and the idiot behind me kept their high-beams on the entire drive, but my GPS deposited me in Noah’s driveway still in high spirits.
High, but nervous spirits.
This will be okay, I told myself, cutting the engine. You’re with Logan. It’ll be okay.
Even from here, with my car door shut, I could hear the laughter echo in the night. Loud. Happy. I couldn’t remember the last time someone in the Top Tier had laughed like that.
And strangely enough, hearing it almost chased the nerves away completely.
A soft tap-tap came on my window, and I turned to find Logan standing there with his knuckle poised over the glass. His eyes started smiling before his lips did, his shoulders rising with a deep breath.
Through the glass, his voice was gentle. “There she is.”
I wasn’t sure I’d ever get over those three words. I popped open my door, a girlish grin touching my lips. “Here I am.”
Logan propped his hand on the top of my door, smiling down at me. “I was trying not to scare you. Some guy appearing out of the darkness to knock on your window sounds like the beginning of a horror movie.”
“You’re not some guy,” I told him, climbing out of the driver’s seat and tipping my head up at him. “I don’t think you could be scary if you tried.”
It was then that I noticed he had a blanket folded over his left arm, and he shook it out, wrapping it around my shoulders. Holding onto both edges, he leaned in, his nose nearly brushing mine. “Boo.”
The blanket smelled like a bonfire in a comforting way—woody smoke mixed with the scent of Logan. My eyes almost instantly dropped to Logan’s upturned lips, and the image of Landon and Lacey kissing flashed across my vision, taunting.
“Noah’s… probably going to be prickly,” Logan said, pulling me from my thoughts. “He’ll throw a quip in here and there, but he’s all bark, no bite.”
“I’m co-captain of the cheer squad—I can handle prickly. As long as it won’t show up on Babble.”
“I’m sure.” Logan stuck out his pinky, gaze holding mine steadily. “No, I promise.”
Readjusting my grip on the blanket, I reached and wrapped my pinky around his.
Logan led me back up the driveway, but instead of heading for the front door, he took me around the side of the house.
It was a bit hard to see, which caused Logan to trip over his feet.
A laugh burst from me, cracking more of my nerves.
When he tripped again, I was sure he’d done it on purpose—all to put me more at ease.
But then he tripped the third time. “How are you so clumsy?” I demanded, practically holding him up at that point.
Logan grumbled, “Why is there a garden gnome outside of the garden?”
“Oh, sure, blame the gnome.”
We rounded the corner of the house then, and my stomach did a little swoop. I gripped the blanket and Logan’s hand tighter.
Three people were on a blanket on one side of the fire, playing with what looked like some kind of cards, and two others were sitting on a quilt on the other side, with a pile of s’mores supplies in front of them.
Two people had chairs propped up, their stretched-out legs alarmingly close to the fire.
And the last one was… reciting Shakespeare?
“‘Two households, both alike in dignity!’” he proclaimed, throwing two hands up for emphasis.
He stood far closer to the flames than I thought he should, especially given the fact that, upon closer inspection, his eyes were closed.
“‘In fair Verona, where we lay our scene. From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, and civil blood makes—’”
“Where.” Someone from the card-playing blanket said. It was a girl with a rainbow headband. “‘Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.’”
The boy standing in front of the fire opened his eyes. “I said where.”
“You didn’t, dude.” This came from a guy in the chair. “You said and.”
Out of all the plays, he had to recite Romeo and Juliet. Mom and I had just watched it on Sunday, or else I might not have recognized it. Everything was starting to feel like one giant coincidence, but in a weirdly unsettling way.
“It’s called modern interpretation.” The boy shot them a dirty look, slipping back into his theatrical performance. “‘From forth the fatal loins’—oh! Newcomer!”
All the heads at the bonfire swiveled in my direction.
I wasn’t unused to attention being on me, but for some reason, I felt like I had stage fright.
Maybe it was because I only recognized two people at the bonfire.
Danielle and Noah sat the same way Logan and I had been sitting earlier in the bed of his truck.
Danielle was crooked between the legs of Noah, whose glasses were reflecting the flames of the fire ominously.
Danielle raised one hand straight into the air. “Welcome, lovebirds!”
My hand tightened around Logan’s, to which he gave a reassuring squeeze back. “Everyone, this is Madison,” he introduced. “Say hi to Madison.”
In a unified chorus, they all replied, “Hi, Madison.”
“Hi,” I returned, sounding far shyer than I normally did.
Noah’s eyes cut to mine. “I’m surprised you came. Danielle said she invited you, but I didn’t think you would.”
Danielle twisted in her boyfriend’s arms. “You two know each other?”
Noah didn’t miss a beat. “Not at all.”
Logan was right; Noah was prickly. But not any pricklier than Jade. “I’m grateful for the invite,” I said, glancing around. “I really was looking forward to meeting all of Logan’s friends.”
“Well, grab a blanket!” Danielle said, patting the grass. “Put it beside ours.”
Logan quickly did more personalized introductions as he laid a quilt out.
The Shakespeare performer was Trevor, and the three sitting on the blanket playing cards—Magic something—were Charlie, Peter, and Amir.
There were two others on the other side of the fire, Brian and Kelsey, who also lifted their hands to wave when it was their turn.
I was overwhelmed with the names, but did my best to trace their faces, to memorize them.
These people were important to Logan, so I would give it my all.
Trevor went back to finishing Romeo and Juliet’s prologue, with the trio playing cards still heckling him when he quoted it wrong.
“We’re pretty boring,” Danielle said as I settled in on the blanket Logan laid beside them. He still stood above us, dusting his hands. “Trevor’s practicing his lines for the upcoming play.”
“Right,” I murmured, remembering that she’d said they were doing a weekend performance of Romeo and Juliet. So maybe the universe wasn’t out to get me.
“Sometimes Noah’s brother, Simon, comes out and reads his poetry. He’s at his friend’s house tonight, right?”
Noah nodded.
I nearly laughed at the idea of Connor or Reed breaking out poetry at a Top Tier party. Even though it was against the rules, it’d end up on Babble, no doubt, and the internet Bobcats would take turns coming up with the most creative way to boo them.
A faint smile was on my lips when my eyes met Noah’s. “Something funny?”
“It just sounds like it’d be a fun time,” I said honestly. “My friends are boring. They just talk about sports the whole time whenever we hang out.”
Wait. Did I just say boring? Did I just call sports boring? The words had just come out. I blinked, but didn’t have a chance to ponder it long. “Yuck.” Danielle shuddered. “Logan and Noah are like that sometimes, and I have to tell them, not everyone speaks athlete.”
“Sometimes it’s really obnoxious,” Trevor called from where he stood at the fire, pausing his prologue. “It was worse when Noah played.”
Danielle shot Trevor a look, and he hurriedly went back to reciting.
“I’m going to run and grab skewers for the s’mores,” Logan said suddenly, something tight in his eyes. His knuckles grazed my knee. “You want to come with?”
“I’m okay here,” I said with an affirming smile.
“You know where they are, right?” Noah asked, watching as Logan got to his feet. “Hanging on a hook in the garage.”
Logan nodded. “Back in a flash,” he said before heading off back around the house. I burrowed a little deeper into the blanket as I watched him retreat, breathing in the scent of him that lingered. Just before his shadow blended into the night, I caught him stumble over the garden gnome again.
“So,” I began, turning back to the couple, wracking my brain to fill the sudden silence. “Noah, you used to play football, huh?”
The mood of the bonfire shifted, almost drastically.
The atmosphere cooled off as if the fire itself had gone out.
I absolutely should’ve just kept my mouth shut.
“He played up until last year,” Danielle said to me, a strange current in her voice.
“He was on the varsity team even back in freshman year, and—”
“And then Brentwood broke my leg.”
Noah spoke with zero emotion. The words were blunt, as if stating a fact. His focus was on me, but once again, I could mostly only see the reflection of the fire flames in his glasses lenses. “W-What?” I asked, but the word was nearly lost in the crackling of the burning wood.
“Snapped my tibia in the rival game.” Noah’s voice was flat.
“First quarter. I’d already released the ball when two Brentwood linemen hit low—both at the same time.
It was a compound fracture that shredded the ligament around it, and just like that.
” Noah gave a slow shake of his head. “No more football.”
I blinked, trying to imagine the play he’d described. I hadn’t been at that rival game, though, but no one had talked about a Jefferson player getting a career-ending injury from it.
“He was the quarterback last year, too,” Trevor added, coming over to our blanket. “A junior quarterback is practically unheard of. He was going places.”