Chapter 26
NOAH
once I calmed the fuck down—which involved telling Skye my whole story about the car crash, the drowning, and the subsequent coma—I was just straight-up embarrassed. I’d completely panicked and nearly drowned myself again in the process.
The stupidest part was that I had no memory of the actual accident that caused my trauma.
There was a whole blank spot in my memory from about four hours before the crash right through until I woke up in the hospital days later.
I knew the facts, from what I’d been told.
I knew that the car I’d been in had crashed off the side of a bridge and plunged into the river below.
That the taxi driver had died when the car was fully submerged for an unknown amount of time before a Good Samaritan passerby pulled me out and called the ambulance. But I didn’t remember any of it.
Unfortunately, as I discovered a few weeks after getting out of the hospital, just because I had no memory didn’t mean my body had forgotten. I couldn’t even take a fucking bath without freaking out, which was a tragedy because I used to love baths and hot tubs.
“Can we just pretend like that didn’t happen?” I asked Skye when we eventually emerged from our shared room. “I’m actually horrified I acted like such a…”
Skye snickered. “Like a girl?” I whacked him in the stomach with the back of my hand and he groaned. “Ow, I’m kidding. And there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Twin. Xavi was way out of line.”
I paused in the hallway, remembering fragments of what’d happened after they pulled me out of the water. “Wait, didn’t you tell Minnie to kick his ass?”
He smirked. “Sure did. I kind of wish I’d stayed to watch that play out.”
I bit my lip, not wanting to admit that I kind of wished I’d seen it too. Skye, perceptive little shit, must have read my mind, because he nudged me with his elbow while we headed downstairs.
“He likes you, you know?” he said quietly. “Minnie, I mean.”
I forced a laugh, shaking my head. “Nah, he’s just playing up the fan service. I literally heard him say as much to Ace when they were discussing the whole branded-hat saga.”
Skye groaned. “Well, duh. Of course he’s going to lie to Ace…
as much as Ace looks after us all in the team, he takes our contracts super seriously.
While he kind of turns a blind eye to Z’s thing with Tessa, he would not be cool with inter-team fraternization.
Like in a big way. Anyway, food for thought. ”
I didn’t respond because we had reached the kitchen, where half of the team were all laughing and joking about the mess that Torin and August were in the middle of making.
“Short Stack!” Torin called out, offering me the kind of grin that could melt the coldest of hearts. “Come cook with us. We’re making our own pasta!”
I grinned back at him, unable to stop myself. “I’m just fine watching from a safe, clean distance, thanks.”
Minho gestured for me to join him where he leaned against the counter, but I sidestepped with a quick, hopefully reassuring smile and took a seat on the barstools beside Z instead.
“I hate to point out the obvious,” Z said quietly, with a hint of a smirk playing on his pretty mouth. “But you sank in that pool like a…”
“Ha ha,” I replied, smiling despite myself. “Very funny. I suppose Rocky is fitting after all.”
Z snickered, bumping me affectionately with his shoulder.
“You good?” His question was quiet and to the point, but his gaze was soft and concerned as I met his eyes.
It did things to me, and for the hundredth time I was struck by the strangest feeling that we knew each other.
Intimately. Or maybe that was my feral hormones acting up again.
“Yeah, just would love to pretend nothing happened,” I replied with a small shrug.
“Done,” he replied with a nod, taking a sip of his drink. It was a sweet pink cider, according to the label, and I loved that he didn’t feel the need to drink manly beer all the time because it was manly.
Minho opened the double doors of the drinks fridge, calling out my name. “Do you want a soda?”
Undecided what I was in the mood for—since the staff had fully stocked our fridge with a million nonalcoholic options—I slid off my seat and went to take a look. Minho shifted slightly out of the way to let me browse but rested a casual hand on the small of my back as he did so.
I bit my lip, trying not to overthink it. He was a touchy guy with everyone. This wasn’t anything new or different, but Skye’s words were echoing through my head and making me read way too much into the innocent gesture.
“This looks interesting,” I commented, pulling out a brown can with the letters L&P on the front.
The staff had gone out of their way to accommodate me when they heard I didn’t drink alcohol, making sure I had a variety of options from all around the world.
According to the can, this one came from New Zealand.
I cracked it open and took an experimental sip, then hummed my approval before handing it to Minho to try. Which was, I quickly realized, a fucking terrible idea because he always somehow made the act of sampling my drink so sexy.
“Yum,” he murmured, licking his full lips as he handed it back. “Lemon but a subtle lemon. I like it.”
“Same,” I whispered, eyes wide as I stared at his mouth. Then realized what I was doing and quickly turned away, closing the fridge doors while internally screaming at myself to pull it the fuck together.
Thankfully, Torin provided the perfect distraction when he threw a fresh pasta noodle at me and it landed perfectly draped across my nose. He cracked up as I laughed in shock, then retrieved the noodle off my face for me.
“Sorry, Short Stack,” he chuckled, wrapping me in a warm hug. “I intended for that to hit Minnie.”
I hugged him back, quietly soaking in his infectious joy as I inhaled his distinctive jasmine-and-honey scent.
Torin always smelled incredible. Somehow he understood that I needed that hug, and held on longer than maybe necessary under the circumstances, until August reminded him that he was supposed to be making pasta.
“Shit, sorry.” Torin gave me one more squeeze, then returned to his pasta maker, which was pushing out messy piles of fettuccini.
August shot me an amused smile, crossing over the kitchen mess to ruffle my damp hair. “I have it on really good authority that Xavier hates when we spill flour everywhere.” Then he handed me an open bag of flour and winked before returning to the sauce he was stirring.
I looked at the packet in my hand, then glanced to Z, who watched with a wide grin on his handsome face.
“Do it,” he urged. “He deserves it.”
Skye scoffed, shaking his head. “You won’t.”
Poking my tongue into my cheek, I held my roommate's dancing eyes as I upended the flour onto the kitchen floor right as Xavier appeared in the doorway.
“Shit,” I squeaked, trying to hide the now-empty packet behind my back. As if he hadn’t just seen me deliberately dump it out.
“Oh nooooo!” August exclaimed with the heaviest sarcasm known to man. “What an unfortunate mistake. Those pesky flour bags are always so flimsy.” He tsked his tongue, smoothly retrieving the packet from my hand and tearing it across the base. “You see? Faulty. No one to blame here.”
Xavier just stared at the pile of flour with one eye twitching for the longest moment, and the rest of us simply waited to see how he was going to react. But then he shocked me by drawing a deep breath, closing his eyes, and counting to ten quietly under his breath.
Around the number four, I glanced at Z in confusion, but he just shrugged back to say he was equally puzzled.
Finally, Xavier huffed a sigh on ten and fixed his warm hazel eyes on me.
“Noah,” he said in a carefully calm voice.
Minho’s hand returned to rest on the small of my back, silently offering support if Xavier was going to lose his shit.
But despite how tight his posture was and how tense his expression sat, he remained calm.
“I’m sorry,” he gritted out. “For throwing you in the pool.”
That was unexpected. Xavier, as far as I’d known him, did not apologize easily. Not even when he was painfully in the wrong and aware of it. So him offering up an apology without prompting was…weird. Uncomfy.
“And…” he grumbled, looking like he was being tortured. “I’m sorry for dropping you off the high wire like I did. I’m not sorry for arranging the safety net, but I should have told you before letting go.”
Well fuck. Xavier could have announced he was secretly a little green alien and I would have been less shocked. My mouth flapped a couple times before I managed to squeak out a weak response.
“Um, thanks? I guess. Um, sorry about the flour. I’ll clean it up.” Because now I felt like a real dickhead. He was coming in here to offer a genuine apology and here I was, inflaming the situation.
“I’ve got it,” August said, handing me his stirring spoon. “You just keep that sauce from burning.”
Largely because I was still in shock about Xavier’s apology, I switched places with August and took over the sauce, keeping quiet as he started cleaning up the pile of flour.
From the corner of my eye, I caught Skye glaring daggers at Xavier, but Z gave him a nod and fist bump as if to say “good work being a big boy.” It was cute.
It only took a few minutes before Xavier cracked and told August he wasn’t cleaning up properly, and then everything was back to normal.
Comfortable and enjoyable, with the added bonus of Xavier on his hands and knees cleaning up my mess.
By the time Ace joined us, everyone was in good spirits once more.
Dinner was amazing—as always when Tor and Augie cooked—but even better was when Ace took to the kitchen to make butter and brown sugar caramelized bananas with vanilla ice cream for dessert. Pool panic attacks were totally forgotten as I stuffed my face on that.
“Anyone up for a movie?” Ace asked as he and Skye cleared the empty dishes from the table. “There’s a new installment of Intrusive Thoughts just released…”
I lit up at that suggestion, as did Skye—because the first movie had been brutal with jump scares and gore—but the other guys all groaned with disagreement.
“Can we play Tekken?” Tor asked with a hopeful smile. “Skye owes me a rematch, and I really feel like I can kick his ass this time.”
Skye snort-laughed, shaking his head. “You’re dreaming, amateur. Save your dignity and challenge Z instead. He hasn’t been putting in the practice like I have.”
That in turn dissolved into a lighthearted, insult-throwing match which resulted in all eight of us camped out in the living room to play video games.
Somehow—unclear how—I ended up being the one to challenge Torin first, and I perched on the edge of the sofa to give it my best while Minho sprawled beside and halfway behind me.
Not touching but close enough that he had my attention firmly in his grasp.
Unsurprisingly, I lost that game and tossed my controller to Z with a laugh of defeat, collapsing back against Minnie’s leg. Amid the ribbing from the guys about how I couldn’t beat Torin, Minho pulled me closer and interlaced our fingers.
Surely this time I wasn’t reading too much into it? But we were in plain view of the whole team. Torin even glanced over at our connected hands and gave no reaction at all. Because it was normal for Minho. Right? Totally normal.