Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Savannah
My Favourite James
I’m studying in the library on Monday with my phone facing up, waiting for it to ring with Dallas asking me how the party went, Parker to tell me he saw a hockey player walk me home, or Noah, who was gone when I woke up on Sunday and hasn’t texted me since.
Not that I reached out, but I’m pretty sure leaving without a goodbye is as much of a statement as over forty-eight hours without contact.
But I don’t have a lot of experience with relationships, casual or not, or even friendships, so I could be wrong.
I want to be wrong.
Eventually, I finish my homework and pack up. That’s when it finally buzzes.
Noah
Busy tonight?
It’s too early for a booty call, but that’s the vibe. And as much as I feel like I would take whatever I could get with Noah, my heart wouldn’t be able to handle that.
I wait a full five minutes before responding.
Me
Finishing up an assignment at the library.
His reply comes instantly.
Noah
Practice just ended. We were thinking D2?
I can’t wipe the smile off my face, though a tiny, nagging voice wonders if he’s reaching out because he doesn’t want his roommates to know he was ghosting me. That doesn’t stop me from offering to bring food, because I know my brothers are always starving after practice.
Noah
Just bring your beautiful self.
I made almond pastries at my grandfather’s yesterday, so I swing by my dorm to pick them up, then walk to the house on Ivy. Their vehicles are in the driveway, so I walk up and knock, though my initial instinct is still to let myself in.
“Savannah’s here!” Michael calls when he opens the door. “How’s it going?”
“Good. How was practice?”
I follow him inside and put my coat on one of the hooks, shuffling off my boots while Michael heads back to the kitchen, and Noah rushes down the stairs.
“Good,” Michael assures me. “Ready for the Classic.”
“Do you get to go home as well, or…”
My brothers always had less time off than your average student, and many years we followed them to whatever sporting event they put on a holiday.
“We’ll get about a week in L.A. before we have to be in Florida,” Mike shares. “But a huge chunk of Owen’s family is coming to watch, so they’ll make sure it’s holiday central.”
“That’s nice,” I say, but Noah is looking at my lips like he wants to taste them again. My heart beats faster, but David and Colt come out and Noah notices the Tupperware I’m carrying.
“I told you not to bring anything,” he warns.
“They’re almond pastries. Do you guys have any allergies?”
“Shellfish,” Mike shares.
“Pineapple.” Colt sighs.
“No foods,” David assures me.
“Then dig in,” I encourage, but hands are already in the container.
“Savannah, this is the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth,” Mike tells me.
“That’s what she said,” Colt murmurs before Noah whacks him in the chest.
“You said you already ate, right?”
I can see what’s left of a casserole on the stove, with a fresh plate in case I wanted some.
“I took a break about an hour ago.”
“Perfect.”
Noah goes to the stove, which has a pot on it, and divides the contents – milk maybe – into six mugs, which he proceeds to stir. Then he goes to the fridge and covers the tops with whipped cream while David adds marshmallows.
“Sorry, Emmy’s birthday. What did I miss?” Owen comes down the stairs.
“Hot chocolate,” Michael says, handing him one before I follow them to the living room. The movie is ready to go, so I take a seat between David and Noah, catching the latter’s smile as I take a tiny sip of my drink.
“This is delicious,” I tell him while Owen passes around candy canes, which Colt and Michael use to stir in some peppermint.
“I felt bad I made you miss out,” Noah explains.
“This is perfect,” I say instead of assuring him that I much prefer what actually happened that night.
We’re quiet at the beginning, our mouths busy sipping and sampling, but by the end of the movie, we’re singing along, with Noah’s arm on the couch behind me, his side pressed against mine, my heart rate way too elevated for someone sitting down and watching a kid’s movie.
“Do you have time to complete the trilogy?” Owen asks me while he and Colt clear the empty mugs.
“Sure,” I say. “It’s not that late.”
It was 8:30, but then we make popcorn – multiple bags – with butter, and pause the movie a half dozen times, so it’s past eleven by the time we’re done, and I’m half-asleep on Noah’s chest. Not that the others are more alert.
“I’ll walk you home?” Noah asks through a yawn, extending his arms, so I reluctantly sit up. I immediately miss the closeness.
“I’ll be fine, you’re tired,” I assure him, catching the yawn bug.
“Pot, meet kettle.” Owen chuckles.
“I can stay on the couch if you want my room,” Colt offers, getting a glare from Noah.
“I don’t want to put you out,” I argue. “It isn’t even midnight.”
“It’s dark, the middle of the night, drunk drivers,” Noah repeats my warning from last time.
“On a Monday?” I ask.
We’re the only two left in the living room, the others dealing with the popcorn bowls in the kitchen.
“Are you opposed to staying over?” Noah quirks an eyebrow, but I don’t want to remind him he’s the one who ran off at the crack of dawn and doesn’t want this to be a relationship. “My bed’s a lot bigger than yours,” he adds.
“I don’t have my things.” I’m the type of person who doesn’t sleep over without my toothbrush, my face wash, and a change of clothes, but tonight, none of those are reason enough for me to not want to. I’m literally hoping he’ll tell me it doesn’t matter. That he wants me to stay.
“Owen’s sister stocked us up with a full hospitality drawer, and I can lend you pjs.”
He shrugs like he doesn’t really care either way, but he’s looking at me like he doesn’t want me to leave, and I know I’d rather stay here with him than in my dorm with Anna, so I take a deep breath and say, “Okay.”
The guys don’t let Noah or I help with the cleanup, so we go upstairs and Noah finds me something to sleep in, then shows me the ‘hospitality drawer’ which has toothbrushes, conditioner, razors, a first aid kit, makeup remover, moisturizer, hair elastics, and whatever else a girl could need for a sleepover.
I’m very curious about this sister of Owen’s, especially when there’s Midol, tampons, and pads in there as well.
I brush my teeth and put the clothes on before heading back to Noah’s room, but I have to hold up the shorts so they don’t fall. I don’t know if it’s an oversight, or if Noah intentionally set me up to be pantless, but I give up once I’m safe inside his room.
“Shoot, those don’t fit.” He looks remorseful, but he’s also smiling, like he enjoys what he sees.
“Your shirt is basically a dress on me,” I say, climbing out of his shorts and tossing them over to his hamper, as if I don’t see the difference between shorts and panties as a barrier between us.
He doesn’t speak, so I look over and find him watching me, his eyes focused on my legs. I’m very happy I shaved them this morning, because he’s sort of looking like he wants to devour me, which I now know is a thing. Not just in the creepy cannibal way.
Noah strips down to his boxers, which means the t-shirt was probably for my benefit last time, but I’m not upset about it. He has a body like roman sculptures, and I’ve never understood that whole, wanting to lick his abs thing, but honestly, I wouldn’t be opposed.
Instead of climbing into bed, he walks over and kisses me, not hungry, but very thoroughly, and it makes my knees weak.
“I’ve been waiting to do that since you got here,” he says like it was torture, which tells me both that he wants me (yay!), and that he’s opposed to even his roommates finding out (boo!). But also, what does he think they think is going on right now?
“Happy to oblige…” I say instead of pointing that out.
“There’s a secret dating trope, right? In books?”
My heart sinks, because it’s a blatant reminder that he agreed to this to help me with book research, even if I could swear sometimes it feels like more.
“We’d fail miserably at secret dating after tonight,” I point out. “There’s fake dating, where they think we’re together when we really aren’t, but I think we failed at that too.”
“Then what trope would we be?”
Unrequited love? She falls first, who knows if he’ll ever fall? Teaching the rookie? Jock-meets-wallflower?
“Friends with benefits?” I try instead, since it most accurately describes what we have going on.
“We are friends, right?” Noah sounds vulnerable instead of teasing.
“Of course.” I swallow, but the moment feels charged. Heavy. “You’re my second favorite Callahan, which has to count for something.”
He chuckles, but then goes serious and waits until I’m looking at him.
“You’re my favorite James.”
I can’t read his smile, but the butterflies in my belly are going crazy, because that’s all I’ve ever wanted. Not to be the favorite overall, because every James I know is awesome, but to be someone’s favorite.
“First name or last?” I ask teasingly, hoping he can’t hear my heart.
“Both.”
He takes a step closer, and the kiss feels different, like it means more, but I’m probably projecting.
As much as it feels like he wants me, which is not easy for me to believe, at all, it also feels like he isn’t going to let himself have me.
Which I try not to see as me not being worth the risk, but what else could it be?
He kisses me again, and I stop thinking about what I wish I had, and focus on what I do. Then Noah gets down on his knees, holding me up when mine turn to jelly, and I forget my own name. Forget everything but the way he makes me feel.
Alive.
Taken care of.
Wanted.