Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Savannah
I’ve Got You
I’m studying in the library on Wednesday, rewarding myself with fifteen minutes of writing after every textbook chapter, when my phone buzzes. I assume it’s the family text group, where Mom is trying to coordinate thanksgiving, but it’s Noah.
Noah
What are you up to tonight?
My heart hammers in my chest, even after I remind myself he’s not interested in me, or dating, so it’s probably to watch Izzie. I consider lying and pretending I have friends, but decide to be vague instead.
Me
Was studying.
Noah
Do you need to keep doing that, or can I steal you away for a couple of hours?
Me
Not cool with kidnapping. Even if you ask permission first.
Noah
Practice just ended. Can you meet me at the rink?
I hesitate, then close the screen so he doesn’t see my dots in the bubble while I try to either psych myself to go or come up with a good excuse.
Me
What should I wear?
I cringe at it, but I need to know.
Noah
I’m sure whatever you’re wearing is fine, as long as you’re comfortable. What’s your shoe size?
Me
8
Should I bring my bike helmet? I think I still have my rollerblading pads somewhere.
Noah
Just bring yourself.
I won’t let you fall.
I want to call bullshit, but I also swoon, and the library suddenly feels ten degrees hotter. I like his text, feeling like a dork, but I don’t know how else to respond.
I make it to the rink in less than fifteen minutes, though I strongly debated going home to change or put on makeup. I still have Dallas’ fob, but it feels wrong to use it, so I text Noah. I’m debating pulling out my notebook when he pushes the door open.
“You came.” He smiles, which lights up his blue eyes, and my heart flutters.
“Are we allowed to be here?” I ask once it’s clear the place is empty.
“Perks of being the captain.”
Dallas used his keys to do things he shouldn’t have in the name of getting laid, but I don’t think Noah would risk his captaincy for the pleasure of teaching me to skate, so I assume we’re safe.
“Is anyone else coming?”
“Do you want there to be?” he asks, but before I have the chance to say something that might make things awkward, he says, “Come on,” and brings me by the hand to the bench players usually sit on. “Do you need to use the changing rooms?”
“Does this look good?” I ask, meaning is my outfit appropriate for what we’re about to do, but he takes it as an invitation to check me out, head to toe, and I swear I see something like desire in his eyes before he tells me what I’m wearing–leggings and a thin sweater–is fine.
I sit down to put on the skates, but he kneels in front of me and takes over.
“What are you doing?” I ask, hating how breathy I sound when he slips my foot into the skate, then rests it between his legs.
“Is this okay?” he verifies, probably because I’m nearly swooning and he’s used to helping children. I nod, not trusting my voice. “Skates need to fit, but not too tight, so I thought I’d check the size.”
“Okay,” I say like this is completely normal, watching him and trying to remember how to breathe as he laces my skates.
“I guess I could have trusted you to tell me, but…old habits,” he says, moving to the other foot.
“I have extra socks in my car if they don’t fit. And some leg warmers.” I always have a bag in there with the layers and blankets needed for a winter football game.
“Glad to hear you’re prepared…but it looks like these fit.”
“I’m sorry I’m nervous. I’ve never skated before, and I don’t like being unprepared,” I explain, but it does nothing to calm my nerves.
“I should have given more details, but I don’t know how fast we’ll end up going, and the level of freezing diminishes the more you move.”
Being cold was my fear when I got here, but when Noah gently places his hand on my knee to let me know he’s done before moving on to his own skates, I feel flushed, and debate stripping down to my t-shirt.
“How old were you when you learned how to skate?”
“Three.” He smiles. “I’d like to think I loved it instantly, but my mom says it was like pulling teeth to bring me, until I got the hang of it.”
“How come you kept going? Or…you know, why did they keep bringing you?”
“My dad loved it. They never made me skate, but my dad signed up to help with my class before the session started, so I was going to go with him every week anyway, and I guess the only thing worse than falling on my ass was watching other people do it without me.”
“And the rest is history,” I tease.
“If you gloss over the years of training and 5:30 am practices and driving to away games and—”
“I thought you were trying to convince me to do this?”
“Would you believe me if I told you I loved every minute of it?”
“No,” I say without hesitation.
“You think I would lie to you?”
Part of me wants to say no. He keeps saying he doesn’t do relationships, and my college hockey research has dug up a lot of dirt on him and his reputation, but he’s nearly perfect whenever I spend time with him.
And he dotes on his sister. He doesn’t seem like the type to lie.
He seems like the kind of guy you fall for.
Hard and fast and never recover. Which is why I say, “Definitely,” then try to stand.
“Woah, easy there.” Noah stands and catches me before I make it up.
“Put me in, Coach.” I try to sound eager, but it’s more because I need to get away from his hands on me.
“Come on.” He chuckles, shaking his head, before stepping onto the ice and extending his hands to hold mine. I freeze as soon as they touch, wishing I had gloves, because the sparks go straight from my fingers to my core. Noah assumes it’s fear that stops me.
“I’ve got you, Savannah. I promise. You ready?”
I swallow and nod, but this time, I need to taper my eagerness, not fake it.