21. Noah

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

NOAH

RECOMMENDED LISTENING ‘REACH OUT FOR THE SKY’ BY LIBERATI

A few days later, I am still thinking about the colossal puppet that made me open my mouth and spew my secrets to my roommate. What’s worse? I can’t even blame liquor for my loose lips.

It was all voluntary. Maybe it had something to do with the doe-eyed look she’d just given me while defending me to her uncle. Maybe I just really needed to get it off my chest to someone other than my brothers. Whatever the reason, the damage was done.

I turn into the gates of the cottage after the long drive I took to clear my head. This time, I somehow ended up on Thorndon University grounds, in Pennington, a good hour away.

I checked out the goth castle-like structures with twisted spires and gabled windows. Busy students walked around with cabin luggage wheelies, talking earnestly to each other about game theory and how robots are going to take over the world. These people are smart, with a capital S.

Queenie Madhavan used to study here, on a scholarship. Making her double-smart. Because I looked up the admittance rates for TU and the scholarships handed out every year. It’s, like, five a year. Out of a potential two-thousand student intake.

She’s ridiculously brainy. And she would have the world at her fingertips after she graduated as a med student, like she’d told me on our ill-fated date.

So, I cannot reconcile her intelligence with the cute yellow Ma’s Pantry apron hanging in the mud room after she’s washed it.

Why would someone so smart just give up this brilliant future and work for minimum wages picking up empty plates? It doesn’t make sense.

And I need it to make sense.

Because, if I am being sensible, then I won’t think of Queenie’s warm weight resting against me, as she called me the best boyfriend ever to her uncle. I won’t recall the way her dark eyes glowed with unshed tears after I told her my worst secret. And I definitely won’t obsess over our almost kiss at the mansion’s lawns before Mischa interrupted us.

I crashed at a teammate’s house the last couple of nights, because I wanted some distance and perspective. And, also, because Evan is a master of the cover drive, and I thought getting pointers from him might help me with nailing the shot.

No such luck.

I just woke up with raging hard-ons and the memory of Queenie’s curves pressed against mine on a windy beach, my hands wandering over her with abandon and possession.

I shake my head as I park the Jeep on the driveway behind Queenie’s car. I frown. She shouldn’t be home for hours yet, since she’s on the late shift. I make it a point to pick her up or send one of my mates for her when she’s working late. She texted me once whingeing about it, but I shut it down fast.

We might be in a safe small town, but I take care of what’s mine.

Somehow, she’s become mine.

I consider texting her, but it’s weird. She’s home at the same time as me. Something I’ve carefully, conscientiously avoided in the last two weeks.

Why invite trouble when trouble already lived with me. I’m not stupid and reckless anymore. Cautious is my middle name.

I pocket my keys and jog up the steps. The door’s closed. Which is new. The door’s mostly open, till we shut it at night.

And I hear swearing from the family room. So, I veer straight instead of taking the stairs and checking in on Queenie.

Fox and Ares are holding half the pullout couch cushions in their hands. Tugging at it like they’re playing a fucking game. The stuffing’s fallen out and litters around the floor.

“What in the ever-loving fuck, dude?” I address Fox.

Fox shrugs. “Don’t ask me. Talk to him.” He throws stuffing at Ares. “We were playing catch. Because dickhead wanted to try a new technique for late-release and get more swing on his yorker.”

“How did throwing a ball end up with you destroying my bed?” I survey the carnage.

“Because dickhead here ,” Ares stresses and tugs at the cushion again. “Jumped way too high to catch the ball. And I told him he was going to crash on the couch, but he didn’t listen.”

I turn disbelieving eyes to Fox. “You fell on the couch and broke it?”

“Actually, I was going to fall on the coffee table and Ares very kindly decided to bloody tackle me to divert the trajectory of the fall,” Fox says sheepishly. Rubbing his neck. “And we both fell on the couch. While it was still out, by the way. And the mattress kind of…fell through the floor.”

I check out the mattress stuck in a V shape through a hole on the wooden frame.

“Good god.” I don’t have any other words.

“We’re both okay, by the way,” Ares volunteers. “Thanks for asking. The mattress saved our butt.” He snickers at his pathetic joke.

“But why are you playing inside the damn house?”

“Practicing Noah. God, we are professionals,” Fox corrects me stiffly.

“Yes, why are you practicing inside the house?”

Ares looks at Fox who nods slightly. Then he answers, “Because we wanted to be inside, in case Queenie needed our help.”

“Queenie?” I ask blankly.

“Yeah.” Fox nods. “She’s not doing great.”

“She’s on her period,” Ares adds helpfully. “And she yelled at me for five minutes straight when I asked her about the pie she brought home. Said it’s just for you. I am now forbidden from eating it.”

My gut warms at the words. At Queenie caring enough about me to save a pie just for me. All my protective instincts rise up at hearing Queenie is in pain.

“She’s mean when she is PMSing,” Fox mutters. He looks up at the ceiling when angry alt rock blasts through the house. He winces. “Very mean.”

“Clean this shit up,” I instruct them. “I’ll go deal with the mean woman.”

“You’re still using the sleeping bag tonight, mate,” Ares calls out.

“ Clean the mess up, mate,” I call back.

I dump my bag in my storage closet and practically run up the stairs. I pause outside her room, my former room. I haven’t come upstairs, except for working out (when she’s not at home), because I didn’t want any more accidental towel sightings.

I might be a cautious man now but that has limits.

I knock on the door. Once. Twice. Then very loudly a third time. I hear nothing back.

“Queenie? I’m coming in. I hope you’re decent.” I cross my fingers and enter her room.

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