8. Nolan
Nolan
M y eyes feel like sand is in them as I roll over to turn off my alarm.
I spent far too much time regretting the prank Lenny and I pulled on Hadley last night.
I wasted even more obsessing over the duplicity that shined in her eyes when she’d looked at me after realizing it was all just a joke gone wrong—and then how her eyes had shined with what I swore was desire.
I’m not sure if it was the desire to tie me up or straddle me, but I imagined her doing both.
I bury the dirty thoughts of her once again and send out another prayer that Hadley doesn’t hate me or will at least be willing to forgive me.
An idea for an apology sparks that I set up before rolling out of bed.
I head upstairs to the main level of the house which is still dark and silent.
None of the girls wake up early. I head for the shower, working to get my thoughts on tonight’s game and far from sinking into Hadley because that is a line Katie won’t forgive me for.
Once showered, I retreat to the basement to get dressed. My movements are sluggish, and my thoughts are on autopilot. I might need two coffees today.
I grab my phone and the garbage from last night’s snack and head back upstairs, hoping some electrolytes and caffeine can wake me up.
Hadley’s in the kitchen, sitting at the rectangular dining room table, typing on her laptop.
She hums quietly to herself, not a song but almost as though humming whatever words she’s thinking.
Her dark hair is down, loose around her shoulders, teasing my thoughts from last night as I imagine her astride me, hair down rather than up as it was last night. I picture the silky strands tangling between my fingers as I bury inside of her.
She stops typing and humming, turning those electric blue eyes to me.
The desire that was present last night is gone, making me question if it was ever there.
The gray T-shirt she’s wearing has a V-neck that reveals a thin gold chain around her neck that I want to ask her about on the long list of things I’m curious to know about my new roommate including why she loves pranks, how the prank war with her brother-in-law got started, if lasagna is her favorite food, and who the fuck is Ezra?
Hadley rolls her lips, fighting a smile as her eyes shimmer with devious intent.
Watch your back. Her warning from last night plays in my head and has me surveying the kitchen, living room, and the front door, searching for what she’s hidden for me.
“You look paranoid,” she says, lifting her coffee. Her nails flash a shade of deep maroon.
I grin, feeling paranoid, though I refuse to admit that to her. I know damn well I opened Pandora’s box and encouraged this war, and her gaze last night assured me she was planning to retaliate.
“There’s fresh coffee,” she says, taking another sip and turning her attention back to her laptop.
I give myself a free pass to study the softness of her mouth, the way the corners of her lips tip upward with a permanent smirk.
Gold flashes in her hair, pulling my attention to the rings around the top of her ear as well as the lobes, and for a second I want to ask about them, too, when she got them and how many she has.
This sparks more questions. I want to know if Hadley and her sister have always been close, and how she met Katie.
The reminder of my sister has a stab of jealousy hitting me squarely in the chest. Hadley is gorgeous, sexy, and funny. Under any other circumstance, I’d be working to impress and pursue her, but Katie met her first, befriended her first, and by doing so wrapped her in yellow caution tape.
The only way Katie’s going to allow me to remain living here is if I keep things entirely platonic between Hadley and myself.
“I don’t like coffee. Not hot coffee, anyway.” Hudson turned me onto nitro coffee last year, and now my head feels like it will explode if I don’t start my day with it.
“You don’t drink coffee?” Hadley sounds affronted, her crystal blue eyes returning to me.
“I can’t people until I have coffee. Hell, I can’t even think before coffee.
” Her eyes slip over the front of me, taking in my pressed shirt, tie, and suit.
Her expression gives nothing away, lacking any sign of intrigue or lust. “Why are you dressed up?”
“It’s our first home game of the year,” I say, trying to be inconspicuous as I take another fleeting look around the house, trying to discern any differences. “We have to dress up for the press—public speaking.” I wink like an asshole, unable to keep myself from flirting with her.
“I wonder if I’m supposed to dress up,” she asks, absently.
“It’s Saturday morning. Stop thinking about class.” I pull the fridge open and turn my attention in time to see an assault of foam balls hit me in the face and chest before I manage to close the door.
Hadley’s laughter echoes through the kitchen as she claps.
I grin at her reaction, though my heart’s racing from the surprise. “I should have suspected.”
She nods, her cheeks stamped with a smile. “That was so mild compared to your prank, but with the short window, it was the best I could do.”
“What is it?” I slowly open the door again, waiting for a second assault, but it doesn’t come. A wooden board is positioned on the second shelf of the fridge, with a string attached that leads to the doors. I pick the contraption up, inspecting the minimal bungee and rubber bands.
“It’s a trip wire,” she says, factually.
“How’d you know how to make that?”
“A healthy fascination of automatons paired with a lot of free time growing up.”
I don’t know what in the hell an automaton is, so I store the word to memory to look up later, realizing too late that I’m adding clever to the list of traits I find desirable in a woman. “What did you send to your brother-in-law? What was the prank?”
Hadley’s cheeks grow pink as she reaches for her coffee. “You don’t want to know.”
She has no idea how much I wish that were true. Her attention shifts back to her computer. It’s not dismissive, she just seems capable of moving on with her morning while my thoughts remain obsessively focused on her.
I grab a nitro coffee and ignore the reminder that I should leave, and instead sit next to her at the table. Her gaze returns to mine, curiosity and a hint of confusion have her angling her head and furrowing her brow just slightly.
“Are you coming to the game tonight?” It’s not my smoothest line, but it’s the first question that pops into my head.
Hadley takes another drink of her coffee, before holding it at chest level, drawing my gaze there for half a second. Warning bells explode in my head and have me looking at my coffee as I twist off the cap.
“I’m going to be here, writing a speech and planning my next move.” She sets her coffee down and gently smirks.
The doorbell rings and Hadley eyes the door, unmoving. “I’m going to let you answer that.”
The memory of Hadley hitting the stairs has me flinching. “I promise, that won’t happen again.” I swing out of my chair and cross the room. Outside, two plastic bags are filled with food, waiting for me on the front porch. A blue car honks as it drives away.
I grab the bags and kick the door closed. Hadley remains in her seat, watching me, though she pretends not to.
I absently wonder if she might be more interested than she’s letting on. It’s a dangerous hope—a stupid hope—but a hope, nonetheless.
Rich and savory aromas follow me back to the table where I set the food down.
“Hungry?” I ask her.
Her gaze turns from discreet to questioning. “What?”
I nod at the food. “I really am sorry for last night. I shouldn’t have taken things so far. I want to apologize—more than just words. I feel like such an asshat for how things played out.”
“So … this is a … peace treaty?”
“It can be if that’s what you want it to be.”
She stares at me, weighing my words as though testing their authenticity.
“Or we can continue—dialed down a little,” I add. “Like your trip wire…”
Hadley glances from the fridge to the packaged food. “Is this a trick?”
“What?”
“Is this going to give me food poisoning? Is it laced with laxatives?”
“It’s an apology.”
“Or a trick…”
“I just picked them up. You saw me.” I dig my phone from my pocket and scroll to the receipts for my order to show her.
“How do I know Lenny didn’t pick them up?”
“Want to call him? Or you can scroll through my texts or phone list. I haven’t talked to anyone.” I push my phone toward her in invitation.
She doesn’t pick it up.
I open the bags and set an order of pancakes in front of her first. “Your search for the best lasagna inspired these choices,” I tell her.
“These are sweet cream pancakes, and literally the best pancakes you’ll ever eat.
” I open the sack from another favorite breakfast and turn the container to show her biscuits and gravy.
“These are the best hangover food you’ll ever eat but are even better when you’re not fighting to toss your cookies. ”
“Noted.” Hadley sits up a little taller in her seat, the whisper of a smile gracing her features. It’s distracting as all hell.
“And, the best breakfast sandwich you’ll ever eat.” I place the wrapped bagel sandwich in front of her. “The guy who makes these is from New York and he makes the bagels fresh every morning.”
“You take your food really seriously,” she says.
“I grew up outside of Chicago where food is practically a religion.”
Hadley grins, but her eyes remain suspicious.
“You don’t trust me?”
Her answer is a smirk. “I can’t imagine why…”
I pull out the matching items from the second bag, place them in the pile with the initial ones, and mix them like a street magician.
Her lips purse and I again forget to see her as Katie’s friend, taking in the fullness of her lips, the way her eyes flicker with amusement, the shallow marks at the corners of her lips as she fights a smile. “How do I know you wouldn’t poison both?”