Chapter 39
Noah:
Two days back in the dorms, and I still couldn't get her out of my head.
The hoodie smelled like her.
I didn't notice until Marcus leaned over to grab the ketchup from my side of the table.
"Dude." He froze mid-reach, nose wrinkling. "You smell like perfume."
"What?" I kept my tone casual.
"Expensive perfume." He leaned closer, sniffing like a bloodhound. "Did you hook up with someone?"
Tyler's head snapped up from his laptop. "Wait, what?"
"Zoe's laundry detergent," I said, already standing. "Stayed at her place, remember? She uses those fancy pods."
"Your sister uses Tom Ford?" Marcus looked skeptical.
"Rich people are weird." I grabbed my phone. "You coming to lunch or what?"
The hoodie had been in my bag since leaving Stella's apartment. I'd grabbed it off her couch that last morning, and apparently her perfume—something dark and expensive that clung to everything in her place—had rubbed off on it.
Not that I'd been paying attention or anything.
"Outdoor seating?" Tyler suggested as we approached the dining commons.
"Yeah, good call." I steered us toward the tables with a view of the Behavioral Sciences Building. Third floor, corner office.
If Stella happened to be in her office during lunch, she'd have a clear view of the outdoor area. Not close enough to see details, but close enough to see people. To see who approached our table.
To see me.
"Oh shit, that's Chloe Park."
Marcus had frozen, burrito halfway to his mouth. I followed his gaze to where a girl was weaving through the outdoor tables toward us.
Chloe Park. Junior, psych major, PSA president. Campus goddess, according to popular opinion.
"She's coming over here," Tyler hissed. "Act normal."
I didn't look up from my phone, but I tracked her approach in my peripheral vision. This could be useful.
"Hey." Her voice was warm, with that practiced friendliness that came from years of knowing she was hot. "You're Noah Carter, right?"
I glanced up with a polite smile. "That's me."
"I'm Chloe. Mind if I sit?" She didn't wait for an answer, sliding into the chair beside me and angling her body toward mine in one smooth motion.
Close. Definitely closer than necessary for a casual conversation.
"So I wanted to talk to you about PSA," she said, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. The movement drew attention to her neck, her collarbone. Calculated. "Dr. Morrison mentioned you're on her research team."
My attention sharpened. "She did?"
"Mmhmm." Chloe leaned forward, elbows on the table, which had the convenient effect of emphasizing her cleavage in that fitted sweater. "She doesn't usually take freshmen for field research. You must have really impressed her."
Under the table, Marcus kicked my shin so hard I almost winced.
"I try," I said mildly.
"I bet you do." Her smile widened, and there was something knowing in it. Flirtatious. "We could use someone like that in the association. Smart, dedicated..." Her fingers trailed along the edge of the table, inching closer to where my hand rested. "Good with people."
I leaned back in my chair, creating obvious space between us.
"Sounds interesting."
"The info session is tonight at seven. Dr. Morrison's supposed to stop by as faculty advisor." Chloe's hand landed on my forearm, fingers light but deliberate. "You should definitely come."
Her thumb traced a small circle on my wrist.
Tyler looked like he might actually pass out.
I glanced down at her hand, then back up at her face. Then I reached for my water bottle with that arm, forcing her to let go.
"I'll think about it," I said.
A flicker of surprise crossed her face.
"Well." She stood, smoothing down her skirt in a way that drew attention to her legs. "The offer stands. And Noah? I really hope you come tonight."
The double entendre was not subtle.
She straightened, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Tyler, Marcus—you guys should come too. We're always looking for new members."
Tyler nearly choked on his drink. "Yeah? I mean—yeah, definitely!"
The second Chloe was out of earshot, Marcus exploded. "What the actual fuck was that?"
"What?"
"What?" Marcus's voice went up an octave. "Chloe Park just threw herself at you. Like, literally threw herself. And you gave her nothing."
"I was polite."
"You were cold! She touched your arm and you literally grabbed your water bottle to make her stop. She basically offered to—" Tyler glanced around and lowered his voice, "—you know, and you said 'I'll think about it' like she was offering you a pamphlet."
"Not my type," I said, taking a bite of my sandwich.
"Not your type." Marcus stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "She's everyone's type. She's literally the definition of type."
"Too obvious."
"Too obvious," Marcus repeated slowly, testing the words. "Tyler, I think he's broken. Should we take him to health services? Check for a concussion?"
"Maybe he hit his head when he had that allergic reaction," Tyler said seriously. "Brain damage. That's the only explanation."
I ignored them both, but inside I was calculating.
By six-thirty, I'd convinced Marcus and Tyler to come to the info session. Tyler was genuinely excited. Marcus kept muttering about my questionable life choices but agreed anyway.
"I still don't get it," Marcus said as we walked across campus. "You turn down Chloe Park but you want to go to the meeting she's running? Make it make sense."
"Maybe I'm interested in psychology research," I said innocently.
"You're interested in something," Marcus muttered. "I just can't figure out what."
We got to Behavioral Sciences 204 about ten minutes early. The lecture hall was one of the smaller ones, maybe sixty seats. I picked spots in the middle section—engaged but not overeager, with a clear view of the door.
The room filled up slowly. Chloe was at the front, setting up her presentation on the projector. She caught my eye and smiled, a slow, deliberate thing that was probably supposed to be seductive.
I gave her a polite nod and went back to my phone.
"Dude, she's still looking at you," Tyler whispered.
"Noted."
"Why aren't you—"
"Because I'm not interested, Tyler. Let it go."
Marcus and Tyler exchanged a look that clearly said they thought I'd lost my mind.
The session started at seven sharp. Chloe launched into her presentation about PSA's mission, upcoming events, research opportunities. She was good at this—confident, articulate, clearly used to commanding attention.
I absorbed maybe twenty percent of the actual content. The rest of my brain was occupied with that door.
Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. Twenty.
She's not coming, I thought. Of course she's not. She's probably in her office doing actual work. Grading papers. Preparing lectures. Being a responsible adult with a real job.
I'd gotten myself hyped up over nothing.
I should have stayed in the dorm. This was stupid. I was stupid.
And then I heard it.
That sharp click-clack of heels on tile. Quick, purposeful strides that I'd recognize anywhere at this point.
My entire body went alert.
The door opened, and Stella walked in, and the air felt lighter. Sweeter, even.