12. Hadley #2
“Maybe your professor wanted that? Maybe it was a challenge of sorts?”
“To see if I can show my face in public again?”
Evelyn nods to my surprise. “I had a coach once who said when others saw your worst it made it easier to drop all pretenses.”
“I don’t think I could do worse.” I knock on the table in hopes I don’t jinx myself.
She grins. “Exactly.” Her phone vibrates with a calendar reminder. “I have a date with my aunt. She’s redoing her house and asked me to go furniture shopping with her.” She looks as disappointed as I feel about our lunch ending. “We should do this again,” Evelyn says as we clear our table.
“I would really like that.”
Her smile grows. “Oh, and I did a little recon.” She reaches for her phone. “I’m going to text it to you.”
“Recon?”
Her dark eyes flash to me. “I got Nolan’s schedule and I found out he’s terrified of snakes, which I feel like I should have known because I share the same visceral fear.”
“I think the war is over,” I tell her, picking up a chip. “I don’t know if Katie’s going to let him move back in.”
“Nolan’s pretty persistent… If I were you, I’d be getting some rubber snakes and hiding them in his things because I’m sure he’ll be back.”
“I don’t know…”
Her phone rings, interrupting me from nearly telling her how much I hope he does move back, how much I want to know if he’s dating that Janelle girl—or anyone else, and how since kissing him, embarrassment has followed me like a rash.
“I’m sorry. It’s her, let me get this really fast.”
“It’s okay. I actually have another class starting in twenty minutes.”
“Maybe we can make this a standing date?”
I nod, more grateful for the olive branch than I can say. “Sans near car accident.”
She laughs. “See you later.”
My afternoon passes in a dangerous cycle of regret and the same dread I woke up with.
When I finally get home, the sky is dark with clouds, making it appear later than it is.
Neither Katie nor Hannah’s cars are in the driveway.
I never thought about our house as empty and lonely, not until this past weekend, and I hate that a single night—a few lone hours—has challenged the way I look at the house.
I head up to my room and stop in the doorway, peering around at the brightly colored wrapping paper that covers nearly all my belongings including my bed, desk, closet doors, hamper, and every picture frame on my wall.
A thrill of excitement challenges the ache in my chest born from not hearing from Nolan all weekend. But as I take a second look across my room, a traitorous smile creeps across my lips. I grab my phone and scroll down to Nolan’s name.
Me: Have you heard of boundaries?
A chuckle has me spinning and my heart stopping.
Nolan appears from April’s empty room. Gray sweatpants have nothing on the black sweats he’s wearing, loose and formfitting at the same time, pronouncing everything I shouldn’t be looking at.
The white tee he’s wearing is loose, and all I can think about is what he’d look like asleep in his bed—in my bed.
When I raise my eyes to his face a wide smile shines back at me.
His dark blond hair is messily styled in that perfect way it always is, and his eyes look greener from the shadowed hall.
“How long did this take you? And how’d you get in? Where’s your truck?”
His smile grows. “How’d your speech go?” he asks, ignoring my more relevant questions.
I hate that he remembers my speech and I hate the idea of admitting how awful it went even more. “I’m reconsidering my major.”
Nolan’s eyes dance with humor that makes me feel a stab of anger.
“It’s not funny.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You laughed.”
“I didn’t.”
“Your eyes did.”
He tips his head back and laughs aloud this time. “Tell me how it went.”
“Terrible. People couldn’t look away. It was a train wreck.”
“It couldn’t have been that bad.”
“No. It was worse.”
“Did you try picturing everyone in their underwear?” he asks.
“I was trying to focus on not passing out.”
His eyes do another silent laugh.
“I’m serious.”
“Then, maybe you’d be interested in a proposal to add to our arrangement.”
That low thrum in my veins comes to life as though recognizing my new outlet is nearby.
My stomach knots, as the memory of our kiss races through my thoughts.
Is he referring to a sexual arrangement?
I’m considering the details of a sexual arrangement, what friends with benefits with him would include …
and preclude as memories of the blonde with his number painted on her cheek hits like an iron prod.
Did he sleep with her?
Pride wants me to say no.
That energy in my veins pleads a yes, reminding me of Hannah’s claim that this is the time we’re supposed to make mistakes and be stupid—how science is on my side, defending every awful decision.
I swallow and cut my eyes to Nolan, realizing he hasn’t even made his proposition.
It might have nothing to do with kissing or being naked or even being around each other.
I fall back on sarcasm. “Does it involve redecorating my room?” I glance back into my room.
“God, you killed at least three trees today.”
“Probably ten. You wouldn’t believe how much paper or how long this took me.”
I shake my head, noting how my bed and each of my three pillows is individually wrapped. “What’s your proposal?”
“I could help you.”
“Help me?”
He nods. “With public speaking.”
“In exchange for what? Talking to Katie?”
Nolan shakes his head. “Don’t get involved with that. She’ll thaw out and talk to me in a few days.”
It’s the last answer I expected.
“That’s good because I was about to tell you this deal will never work. She won’t talk to me, either. She hasn’t responded to any of my calls or texts.”
He winces. “That’s just Katie. She gets mad and gives the silent treatment for a couple of days. She’ll forgive you.”
“We’ve never fought before,” I admit.
Regret sobers him. “I shouldn’t have had the party.”
Everything inside of me wants to object. “What would you want in exchange?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Teach me how to make your trip wire.”
I look at him with narrowed eyes. “What’s the catch?”
“Are you always this suspicious?”
“Says the guy who planted a man with an ax out the window.”
Amusement curls his lips. “You can deny it all you want, but you get a high off the pranks. I see it in your eyes. I saw it when you were talking to your sister, and she mentioned the gift you sent.”
I want to deny it and tell him he doesn’t know me well enough to read my eyes or know what I do and don’t like, but he’s right.
“I could help you.”
I scoff. It’s a hundred percent rude and inappropriate. Yet, Nolan only smirks in response.
“I don’t mean it personally, it’s just…” I shake my head.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve tried conquering my fear of public speaking.
This isn’t like a mild case of stage fright.
I get up in front of people and I literally forget how to talk.
The only words I can recall are elementary and broken, and I repeat myself and stutter and apologize and…
” I shake my head. “It’s bad. Like, bad, bad. ”
“The team requires us to go through public speaking training for the interviews we have to give. I’ve been training for the past three years.”
“But you’re a natural and you don’t have a shy bone in your body.”
He doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t have to. Nolan is the definition of outgoing and fun. “Wouldn’t it be nice if that were true?” His words contradict his grin.
He’s lying. He’s probably even manipulating me. Still, I ask, “What’s in it for you?”
He shrugs. “I’ll learn how to torment the freshmen with trip wires. Can they trigger whipped cream pies?”
Skepticism has me considering why this is a bad idea.
“But you’ll probably want to come to the dorms for our lessons.”
“Your dorm?”
“Unless you want an audience.”
Filthy thoughts appear like a memory being triggered by a sound or scent, the idea of Nolan undressing me, touching me, sliding inside of me while others watch. My heart races and my skin feels tight, my breasts heavy and it has nothing to do with the ideas of an audience but of Nolan touching me.
“Won’t you be busy with football and classes and Janelle?” I didn’t mean to add her name. Never intended to sound jealous or confrontational, but the question is out of my mouth before I can sensor it.
“Janelle is not what you think. Pops and Lenny were making stupid jokes. I didn’t sleep with her or touch her.”
His confirmation fills me with a relief I didn’t know I needed until hearing it—like some of the weight on my shoulders has already been lifted.
“What about football and classes?”
“Text me your schedule. We’ll find some time.”
“And if we can’t?”
“Then we’ll make time.”