Chapter 50 Chapter Fifty
What was I thinking?
The question looped through my mind as Noah's hand closed around mine, warm and confident, leading me toward the stairs.
I'd just invited a complete stranger, a stranger Jace clearly despised, to share my room for the night.
A stranger who'd been in this house for all of twenty minutes and had already managed to charm everyone from Mrs. Dawson to shy, particular Martin.
It made me remember something my dad said, that a person who had no enemies couldn’t be trusted.
Behind us, I could practically feel Jace's glare burning holes in the back of my head.
"You’re not going anywhere with her," Jace's voice cut through the air, sharp and hostile. "Cut that shit out."
Noah didn't even turn around. He just called back over his shoulder, his voice smooth as silk, "Funny how your guest has better manners than you do, cousin. Maybe you should take notes."
My eyes widened. Nobody talked to Jace like that. Absolutely nobody.
But Noah just kept walking, his thumb brushing casually across my knuckles, like he hadn't just delivered a verbal slap in front of Jace's entire family.
I snuck a glance back and immediately wished I hadn't. Jace looked like he wanted to put his fist through a wall. Or through Noah's face. Possibly both.
He wasn’t the type of guy who took losing very well, and I knew soon someone would have to pay for it.
Mrs. Dawson had taken the kids toward the stairs, “Come on you too, it’s time to brush your teeth and get ready for bed,” completely oblivious to the tension crackling through the room.
I let Noah lead me up the stairs, too wound up to form words. I had very little energy to do much else after the long day I had.
But my heart was hammering against my ribs all the same, because people didn't challenge Jace Dawson. They just didn't.
He was the quarterback, the king of Westbrook, the guy everyone either wanted to be or wanted to be with.
But Noah didn't seem to fear him at all.
When we reached the guest room, Noah pushed the door open and stepped aside, letting me enter first.
The room suddenly felt impossibly small.
It wasn't actually small, I mean it was decent size for a guest room, with a double bed against one wall, a dresser, and a small desk by the window, practically luxurious.
But with Noah in it, walking around, touching things, being in the same space I was supposed to sleep in, it felt like the walls were closing in all around me.
My sleeping bag was rolled up in the corner where I'd left it this morning, along with my overnight bag.
There were a few textbooks scattered across the desk, along with a cardigan I'd forgotten hung over the chair.
I suddenly felt like a slob.
"Nice room," Noah said, setting his duffel bag on the floor. "Cozy."
"It's just the guest room. Mrs. Dawson let me have it, but I don't actually live here, I just stay over because I usually work late—" I was rambling again. "There are towels in the bathroom if you want to shower, and—"
"Lena." He turned to face me fully, and that easy smile was back. "Breathe. It's okay."
I sucked in air, trying to calm my racing heart.
"Why don't you shower first?" he offered. "I'll tidy up a bit while you're gone. Give you some space."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to." He was already picking up the textbooks from the desk, stacking them neatly. "Go on. Take your time."
The hot water helped. I stood under the spray longer than necessary, trying to process everything that had happened today.
Jace kissing the breath out of me, Coach Ellis nearly finding us. Allison humiliating me for the millionth time, my best brush with death by accident, and now Noah appearing out of nowhere like some kind of plot twist I hadn't seen coming.
And now I was supposed to sleep in the same room as him.
When I came back, my curly hair damp and dressed in an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, Noah had transformed the place.
The textbooks were stacked on the desk, next to my homework and lesson plans.
My cardigan hung properly in the closet. Even the bed was made, corners tucked in with almost military precision.
Who raised this kid? I wondered.
"Wow," I said. "Thank you."
"No problem." He grabbed his bag. "My turn. Be right back."
The moment he left, I stared at the sleeping arrangements with growing dread. The sleeping bag in the corner, the double bed that suddenly seemed both too big and too small at the same time.
When Noah returned, smelling like soap and mint, he immediately spotted my sleeping bag while I tried not to look at him, walking around half naked in only a towel.
"What's that for?"
“Its for me," I said quickly. "You can take the bed."
"Absolutely not."
"Noah, you're the guest—"
"And you've already given up your room." He picked up the sleeping bag. "I'm taking this."
"No, you're not." I grabbed the other end. "You're already doing me a favor by being here. The least I can do is—"
"The least you can do is let me be a gentleman and take the floor."
We stood there, both gripping the sleeping bag, locked in the world's most polite tug-of-war.
"This is ridiculous," I said.
"I agree. So let me have it."
"No."
His eyes sparkled with amusement. "You're stubborn, aren't you?"
"So are you, apparently."
We stared at each other for a long moment. Then Noah sighed, releasing the sleeping bag.
"Fine. How about this—we both take the bed. It's big enough. I'll stay on my side, you stay on yours. Deal?"
My face went hot with embarrassment, that wasn’t the sort of thing I was here to do in my employers hours. "I don't know if that's—"
"Lena, darling, I promise I'm not going to try anything. Scout's honor." He held up three fingers. "We're both exhausted, the bed is right there, and neither of us should have to sleep on the floor. It's practical. So… what do you say?"