Chapter 6
“We need to address the elephant in the room,” Willa says the next day as she slides her cafeteria tray onto the table and takes a seat. “Your brother is stupid hot.”
I just about spit out my water.
Nova groans and drops her head in her hands. “Et tu, Brute?”
“I’m not saying I’m going to do anything about it.” Willa shrugs and stabs her fork into her salad. “I’m just saying it needs to be acknowledged.”
Nova rolls her head in my direction. “You think so too?”
“He’s not terrible to look at,” I say slowly, my tongue suddenly fat in my mouth. “But—and please don’t hate me for saying this—he’s kind of an asshole.”
Nova snorts, intrigue lighting her eyes. “What haven’t you told me?”
“Nothing.”
Willa and Nova share a dubious glance.
I break. “Fine. Okay. I ran into him at the pool the other day and he was just kind of a jerk. So no matter how hot he may be, you’ll always be my number one Monroe.”
I wrap an arm around her and give a squeeze. She returns the hug with a laugh.
“I should probably defend his honor,” she says after we pull apart. “But I’m so used to having my friends fall all over him, I’m selfishly perfectly fine with you hating him.”
“Speak of the devil.” Willa juts her chin toward the door.
All three of us turn, and we’re not the only ones. Half the cafeteria seems to be on a swivel as he pushes his way through the glass doors with Logan and Thor, who I’ve since come to realize is Logan’s roommate, a football player named Grant.
I turn back to my salad bowl. If I pretend he doesn’t exist, maybe he’ll go away.
No such luck.
Five minutes later, he plops two trays down next to Nova and practically falls into his chair.
Not even bothering to say hi, he starts shoveling food into his mouth.
I can’t help but gape. Willa, too. He’s got a serving of spaghetti, an entire sub, two bags of chips, a side of fries, and a slice of pizza. It’s enough to feed a family.
Two whole minutes pass before he senses us staring. Mouth full, he mutters, “What?”
Logan grabs a chair and swings it around to sit on it backward as he drops his own overflowing tray to the table. Then he claps Nox on the back. “Don’t mind him. He’s a growing boy.”
Nova rolls her eyes. “It’s his training,” she clarifies for me and Willa, clearly used to the display. “He’s got to eat a lot.”
“Swimming burns a ton of calories,” he explains before his gaze slides to me, growing sharp. The right corner of his mouth ticks goadingly up, hardly noticeable, but I see it. “At least, it does for most people.”
My nostrils flare. “And here I was worried you were just eating your feelings.”
Logan snorts into his fist and glances between us, a giddy light in his eyes. Nox levels his gaze on me.
“Why would I be upset about losing to a bunch of cheaters?”
Nova turns to him indignantly. “We did not cheat.”
“Please.” Nox snorts. “The only reason the ref didn’t say anything is because he wanted to see your boobs, too.”
“No one saw my boobs.” She wrinkles her nose. “They saw my bra.”
“We did.” A silly smile widens Logan’s lips. “And it was glorious.”
Nova smacks him on the head.
“Ow!” He flinches back, still grinning. “What the fuck? You showed them to me. I didn’t make you do anything. And if the sudden urge to flash someone comes on again, you know where my room is.”
She rolls her eyes and takes another bite of food.
“Could you…not,” Nox mutters, shaking his head.
Logan laughs and turns to Willa. “That move with Grant was savage though.”
“What about me?” the man in question interrupts. Even though he’s taller and broader than both Nox and Logan, he sets his trays down far gentler than either of them did and quietly eases into his seat, as if aware he already takes up so much space and doesn’t want to steal any more.
“I’m sorry!” Willa covers her face with her hands, but it does little to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks.
“About what?” he asks honestly, glancing around the table. “What are you talking about?”
“How much the girls kicked our asses yesterday,” Logan supplies.
Nox rolls his eyes, mouth too full of sub to counter.
“I really am generally a nice person, I swear,” Willa mumbles, peeking out from between her fingers.
Then she reaches across the table and squeezes Grant’s forearm.
His gaze drops to the spot. “And you were so sweet trying to help me. I almost didn’t do it.
But then, well, the ball was right there.
And I really, really wanted to win, so…”
“You destroyed him.” Logan nods. “Like I said, savage.”
Grant’s expression fills with understanding. “Oh, that. No hard feelings.”
“Promise?”
“Sure. Of course.” Willa offers him a dazzling smile. Grant stares at her. One second drags into two before he clears his throat and finally looks down at his food. “Are you guys coming to the game later?”
The last day of orientation always falls on opening day for the football team, so the school hosts a big pep rally. We were planning to stop by with some of the other girls in our dorm. It’s a bit hard to believe classes begin tomorrow.
“Hell yeah, man!” Logan whoops. “Me and the team are painting Go Rattlesnakes! across our chests. You won’t be able to miss us.”
Nova stares at him. “You are not a serious person.”
“Nox is doing it too!”
“No, I’m not.”
“You’re our exclamation point! You can’t back out now.”
“Did I ever back in? I have training.”
“Then eat up and get your ass to the pool, because I expect you there at kickoff.”
Nox pinches his brow as if praying for strength and stuffs the last forkful of spaghetti in his mouth. I take a sip of water to cover my grin. His gaze cuts to where my lips encircle the straw. When his glare finally lifts to my eyes, it’s all fire.
My pulse quickens, but I keep my expression cool. “Go Rattlers.”
“Yes, Clara!” Logan points at me enthusiastically. “That’s what I’m talking about. I knew I liked you.”
“Hands off,” Nova cuts in, grabbing my arm. “She’s mine.”
He winks. “I don’t mind sharing.”
Nova pretends to gag.
At the same moment, Nox’s chair screeches back. “I gotta go.”
He arches his neck and jiggles the remaining contents of a bag of chips directly down his throat. I can’t believe I’m still working on my salad and he’s already finished a four-course meal. But before I can even come up with a comment, he’s gone.
I don’t see him again until he pops onto the jumbotron around four hours later—the surliest exclamation point I’ve ever seen.
At least half the hockey team is on their feet, bodies painted green as they whoop and holler and cheer for the latest Swiftmore touchdown.
Go Rattlesnakes! is painted in bright white across their chests.
The camera pans closer, highlighting each grinning face one by one, until it reaches the end of the line.
I lift my fist to my lips to cover my snort.
Nox sits in his seat with his arms crossed, a deep groove in his evergreen brow as his lips purse into a frown.
Above his forearms, I can just make out the top of the exclamation point on his chest. By his side, Logan finally notices the screen.
He leans back with an enthusiastic whoop, and I’m not going to lie, the muscles flexing across his chest are a pretty impressive sight to behold, but it’s what he does next that really makes me smile.
He pulls Nox to his feet, jumps up and down, and smacks his friend on the chest while he points at the jumbotron.
Nox stares directly into the camera. Without cracking a grin, he lifts his hand in the tiniest of waves.
The entire stadium goes crazy. I actually gasp as the screams erupt.
It’s easy to forget he’s sort of our local celebrity, but there’s no denying the power a few seconds of his attention holds.
I may have scoped him out on Instagram—gotta keep your enemies close—and the guy has three million followers.
From the sounds of it, half of them are here.
“Now he’s done it.” Nova laughs under her breath.
“What?” I ask, curious.
“Unless he’s in the pool, he hates all this attention. But what’s that saying? Give them an inch—”
“And they’ll take a mile,” Willa concludes.
“There’s your inch.”
She’s right. Anytime anything happens for the entire rest of the game, the camera finds his bright green face.
Shockingly, he doesn’t seem to mind. With each passing minute, his reservations slowly melt away.
Even from a distance, it’s clear why he and Logan are best friends.
The hockey player brings him out of his shell.
Nox doesn’t look directly into the camera again, but he loosens up in other ways.
He actually stands up, for one. He joins the other guys in their chants.
He claps and cheers. He smiles—for real.
And though I hate to admit it, the sight of his grinning face in forty-foot-high HD steals the breath right out of my lungs.
When we bump into Logan after the game, he immediately tries to catch Nova in a hug. She squeals and runs away from his green-paint-clad arms. Willa and I chase after, but not before I toss a single glance over my shoulder, trying to find Nox in the crowd—to make fun of him, obviously.
I don’t see him.
He must’ve left early to avoid being bombarded, or gotten pulled into the crowd, or run into one of the what seems like hundreds of gaggles of girls trying to catch his eye, or been distracted by any number of other situations I tell myself not to ruminate over as the night charges on.
By the time I make it home, his room is dark—a fact for which I will forever be grateful.
Because when I walk into English 102: Introduction to Nonfiction Writing on Tuesday afternoon and witness his stained green cheeks for the very first time, it’s not under the cover of night.
It’s under bright, shining fluorescent lights.
And it’s freaking glorious.