16. Streemz and Chill
Chapter 16
Streemz and Chill
I close the book on Abigail Pruitt and sit back on my stool.
Scrying.
That’s how I can track Botis, and that’s how I can face whoever—or whatever—killed my father. Once I learn some offensive spells, so I know how to actually defeat those things. But that’s details.
I have the beginnings of a plan, and that’s enough.
And it’s all the mental energy I can devote to it right now, because I get to see Noah in an hour and my heart is beating a million miles per second.
Just the thought of him—of our spark . The way his hand tightens in my hair and pulls just this side of pleasurable. I suppress a shiver.
I shift on the stool, a gentle ache settling low in my belly. I can hardly wait.
My phone buzzes on the counter, practically jumping across the glass.
Laura: Are you seeing Noah tonight?
It’s the first time she’s reached out since I watched her walk out of my car—even though she promised to text me the next day—and toward her house. What used to be our house. What’s now their house.
Hazel: I am. But if you need me, I can reschedule with him.
The ache doesn’t like that plan, but the ache can wait a day.
Laura: It’s not an emergency. Enjoy a night with your guy. Can I see you tomorrow before your classes? Maybe we can get breakfast?
Hazel: Absolutely. Pick me up at nine?
Laura: I’ll see you then.
She’s too formal. Something has been wrong ever since our tense discussion in the car. Even mentioning Mom briefly caused a shift in the dynamic. I’m glad she’s at least willing to talk, willing to reach out and try to mend this. Mend whatever this is. It’s like she’s on one end of a giant chasm and I’m on the other, and the chasm is our mother and our magic.
My head swims. It’s too many emotions for one person to contend with at a time.
I can’t focus on the shit with Laura until I see her tomorrow. There’s no way to plan for where her head is at, and focusing on it will only freak me out.
For now, Noah. Noah is my focus.
The toe of my black knee-high boot taps against the sidewalk as I wait outside the apartment for Noah to arrive. I pull my red leather jacket closer around me. I’m ten minutes early, as usual. Grandma left over an hour ago so there should be no awkward run-ins. At least not today.
The village is alive. No one can resist Chagrin Falls on a gorgeous fall evening. Children run after their dogs and couples lean close as they sit at the outdoor tables of their favorite restaurants. Teenagers huddle together giggling as they move in packs eating ice cream cones.
Despite never joining in, I find something oddly peaceful about observing the world around me. Watching people live their lives, seeing the everyday moments. At this point I’ve turned people-watching into an Olympic sport.
My head turns as Noah’s car pulls up and comes to a stop in the parking space in front of me. The grin on his face is blinding, raising the hairs on my arms. My fingers itch to reacquaint themselves with his deceptively soft brown locks, to have him wrapped around me in every way possible.
“Baby,” he says, exiting the car. He’s directly in front of me with two steps of his long legs, and soon has me in his arms, nose buried in my hair.
Thank God he’s holding me up because baby mixed with the electric current surging through my body at his touch has my knees weakening. Legs are jelly. I’m someone’s baby.
I’m Noah’s baby.
My arms tighten around his neck, pressing myself to every lanky inch of him as his scent—bergamot, neroli, book pages, and green tangerine—fills my lungs. I breathe in deep.
He pulls back just a hair, eyes meeting mine, nuzzling my nose. “Missed you.”
Could he be any sweeter? My God.
“I missed you .”
“I have two plans for the evening, depending on your comfort level.” He doesn’t release me from his hold, for which I am thankful. “I made up a picnic basket. If you’d like, we could go to a picnic area in the Metroparks and watch the sunset. Or we could take the picnic basket upstairs or to my place, and we could watch a movie on Streemz.”
Did he just ask me to Streemz and chill? I thought that only happened to girls on social media. I’m not mad about it though.
“A night in sounds perfect.” I smile, disengaging from the hug and taking his hand. We get the picnic basket from his back seat, and I lead him upstairs to my oasis.
Thankfully the place is reasonably tidy.
Noah’s breath leaves him in a whoosh , hand squeezing mine as his eyes dart around the space. He places the basket on the counter and walks further in, not releasing me.
“This place is fantastic, Hazel.” He turns to me, eyes glittering in the low lamplight. “It’s artistic and cozy. Safe. Just like you.”
Something has to be wrong with this guy. He’s always saying the right thing, always positive, but I don’t get the willies. There’s no nagging punch in my gut telling me that he’s fake or shady or just trying to get in my pants.
There’s just the electricity. And the electricity feels good .
“Thank you. I’m looking forward to seeing what you packed.”
He grins, opening the basket. “I’m going to be honest. I can’t cook, despite Nonna Ricci trying to drill it into me. I burn just about everything. But, she helped me make this.”
“You got her to help you?” I can’t take the astonishment out of my voice. I can’t hide the surprise, the disbelief, the sheer obviousness that no one has ever done something like this for me.
Melted. I have melted. I am puddle.
Noah’s brow furrows just a little, two small lines forming in the middle of his forehead, and he comes to me. My thumb reaches up and smooths out the crease, hand settling on his cheek.
His head dips, lips pressing gently against the very tip of my nose. “I’d risk burning just to see you smile.”
Fucking writers, man. They know exactly how to turn you into goo.
How do you even respond to that? Those brown-black eyes—with that little green star in the corner of the right one—are threatening to swallow me whole, and I want to be devoured. I lift onto the very tips of my toes and press our lips together, trying to convey what I don’t have the words to express.
It’s been quick. Frighteningly quick. There is still so much more to unpack, to unearth, to learn about Noah. But the buzz.
The buzz. The electricity. The current.
The current demands. Reassures that this is right, that we are right, that we are everything.
I haven’t felt judged. I haven’t felt repressed. There is no controlling nature, no dislike of who I am as a person. Each layer I reveal, each part of myself I show him, is accepted with enthusiasm.
He groans. “Hazel.”
It’s the same way, the same inflection, as when he kissed me for the first time. An awe—a reverence that I’ve never experienced.
“Noah.” I smile, tongue darting out between my parted lips. His eyes track the motion, keeping me pressed against all the lanky angles of his body.
“What the hell are you doing to me?”
I have no idea, but I’m enjoying every damn second, you sexy octopus.
“Kissing you,” I reply instead. “Would you like me to stop?”
He shakes his head, returning his mouth to mine. His movements deepen, teeth nipping at my lip to coax me into opening to him. I lead him toward the couch, pulling those long limbs on top of me the minute I hit the cushions.
My fingers get what they’ve wanted since the moment I saw him as they finally tangle into his brown curls. So soft.
His stubble rasps against the skin of my neck—kisses rain down on a path toward my collarbone. Legs are tangling together and hips moving, finding a rhythm.
A high-pitched moan escapes me on a particularly perfect movement of his hips.
“Hazel.” His voice is broken like he’s been gargling rock salt twice a day since he last saw me. Chest heaving, he stares at me. His body is completely still otherwise, just staring at me with lips turned rosy from kisses and lip gloss.
“Yeah?” I don’t like the talking. I want more of the kissing.
His head drops onto my chest, forehead pressing right in the center. “You’re driving me crazy.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
That earns me a grin, a dimple-in-the-chin grin. My favorite.
“I’m gonna put my cards on the table, okay?” He stays tangled with me, forearms holding his weight. “I’m falling fast, faster than I ever expected. And I feel like it’s reciprocated. Despite that, I—shit.”
I nod, one hand coming up to caress his cheek as he speaks.
He exhales. “Can we eat dinner and watch a movie?”
“Absolutely. And Noah?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s more than reciprocated.”
His smile is everything, a light that fills up even the darkest parts of my aching soul. He’s sunshine and I’ve been in the dark too long. I’m unwilling to let go of our spark, the gentle buzz that’s been dancing along my skin, so I follow him as he sits upright.
He doesn’t seem to mind as he wraps me up into his side, where I fit perfectly. I thought maybe he’d be tough to cuddle with, considering all his million lanky limbs. I thought he’d be bony or sharp, but he’s comforting as he snuggles around me.
“What kind of movies do you like?” I ask, handing him the remote. I need to peel back some of these layers, see the full picture that is Noah.
He turns on the TV, navigating to Streemz. “I can watch anything with a good story. While I tend to gravitate toward sci-fi, I like a good romance every now and then. How does that sound for tonight?”
“That sounds lovely.”
The sectional couch is wide enough for both of us to lie together horizontally, which is how we end up a few hours later. Belly full of handmade gnocchi with pesto, buzzy cuddles, and a cheesy romantic comedy? This may be the perfect evening.
My eyelids are heavy. The electric shock has dulled into a soothing hum that relaxes each and every muscle in my body. I snuggle further into Noah, pressing my face into the soft skin of his neck.
His hand travels up my back and into my hair, stroking the strands in a slow, gentle rhythm.
Goodnight world, it’s been real.
I’m floating. Maybe. Weightless in a way that makes me feel like I might fall at any moment.
I throw an arm out as my eyes open, finding Noah carrying me through the apartment. I must have actually fallen asleep on the couch during movie night.
I’m such a butthead. He came over to spend time with me and I fell asleep!
“Hey,” I say as he awkwardly opens the door to my bedroom with his foot.
He smiles, meeting my gaze. “Hey, you.”
A wave of sleepiness threatens to pull me back under, the comfort of the evening settling a little too easily into my bones. But not yet. Not yet.
“Will you stay?”
Sleepy Hazel is even more loose lipped than Normal Hazel. Considering that wasn’t a very high bar to begin with...this is not a good development.
He hesitates, arms tensing before he places me on the floral bedspread. I’ve seen him embarrassed, nervous, but I’ve never seen him uncomfortable. Not until now.
“I want to.” He sits, hand reaching for mine and wrapping around it. “Does this feel a little too...”
“A little too what?” I prompt after a second, sitting up.
He shrugs, obviously struggling for the right word. “Easy? I’ve never connected with someone so quickly.”
I have no frame of reference. The only real relationship I’ve gotten a look at was my parents and they were—God, they were devoted . Devoted isn’t a good enough word. Words can’t encapsulate the way my father would look at my mother. It was as if she hung the moon, the stars, and resided among them.
“My dating history isn’t necessarily what I would call extensive.” Or existent.
He chuckles. “I find that hard to believe. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”
Warmth blooms in my chest, filling my body with a lightness. He thinks I’m amazing?
“I like you a lot, Noah.” And it’s true. Despite his hesitance, and his worry that things are too easy, I enjoy being with Noah. It’s calm, reliable, and I may or may not want to rip off his clothes and attack him.
He leans his forehead against mine with a sigh. “I like you, too. I should just shut up, shouldn’t I?”
I shrug. “A woman you think is amazing is inviting you to spend the night with no expectations. Unless...unless you want to talk about it. I want to be there for you.” I don’t have any experience with being someone’s partner.
His shoulders drop, a sheepish smile on his face. “I honestly think I’m just nervous as fuck. Do you still want me to stay, or have I successfully put my foot in my mouth?”
“I’d watch you do that,” I reply before I can stop myself.
His bushy eyebrow quirks. “Do what?”
“Put your foot in your mouth.” I break off with an embarrassed grin. It’s not my fault that the thought of him contorting his body in weird ways is attractive to me. He could eat a piece of cheese and I’d find it attractive.
“What the fuck, Hazel?” he wheezes in between uncontrollable laughter. “You’re such a fucking goofball.”
“Guess that foot is in my mouth, too.”
Oh. Oh God. I said that. That thought went through my brain and got cleared for take-off.
“For the record, I’m not into feet. Just in case you were trying to, I don’t know, work it into conversation,” he says with a wink.
I bury my face in my hands. “You can go and never speak to me again. I completely understand. This has been lovely.”
One minute I’m safe in my little finger cocoon, and the next I’m being attacked by tickling. My hands fly from my face to protect other vulnerable places as Noah descends. The room is filled with giggling and laughter as he breaks down every single defense I have.
“I concede!” I whine, ribs aching. Too much laughing.
It’s only when he stops that I realize how close we are. He’s fully on top of me, legs tangled together. I can feel every single inch of him pressed against me.
And a bunch more inches that have made an appearance.
Whatever fatigue was clinging to me is thoroughly shaken off, replaced by a warm ache low in my belly.
I’m a woman possessed as I pull him down and seal our mouths together. Despite his earlier reservations, he seems to have no problem responding. His big hands wrap around my waist, and he drags our hips together in a move that is completely unexpected from a guy who spends his free time in a bookshop.
I’m not complaining, though, because along with that he’s moving . It’s a slow pulse in exactly the right spot to make my eyes roll back in my head.
His mouth is harsh, demanding, and taking all that I can give to him. The friction sends little waves of electricity along my arms, making me more and more sensitive to every touch.
There is no doubt I will have intense stubble burn, and I’ll relish every second of it.
“You taste delicious,” he says into my neck.
I squirm, running my fingers through his hair and tugging. The groan I get in response curls my toes.
I want more of that sound. I could probably get off on that sound alone.
Before I can recover my wits his hand roughly grabs my breast, catching the very tip between his spread fingers.
Despite the fabric separating us, I arch and moan. The noise is inhuman. It’s a pure animalistic noise of pleasure.
“Fuck, that was hot.” His hand moves, massaging me through my clothes.
A voice in the back of my head reminds me that he wanted to wait. He wanted to talk. He wanted to go slow.
Shut up, voice, can you not see I am very much enjoying myself?
He matters more.
Ugh. Bitch .
“Noah,” I say, scratching along his scalp.
His eyes—which were firmly planted on my chest—meet mine. “Yeah? You okay?”
“I, um.” Courage, Hazel. “I’m great. Perfect, actually. You just...Earlier you wanted to take things slower?”
“Shit, you’re sweet.” He presses a quick kiss to my lips that has me chasing after him. “You’re right, though. I want to do this right.”
“I want to do this right, too. I like you, Noah. I know-ah I just said that, but I mean it.”
“Did you just use my name as a pun?”
“Yup. Figured you should know what you’re getting into.”
“I’m into you.”
A dorky grin breaks on my face. “Cute.”
“Will you be my girlfriend?”
My heart soars out of my chest and into the sky. I’m lighter than air as I soak in the blinding sunlight that is Noah Rogers. I want to live in this moment, catalog every single detail so I can play it over and over again in my mind. Right now, everything is perfect.
I smile. “Absolutely. Will you stay tonight so I can sleep in your arms?”
He returns my smile, the little dimple in his chin peeking through.
“Absolutely.”