He rolls his eyes and walks over to his closet to yank a t-shirt off a hanger.
“It’s like you’ve never seen a male torso before. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
My comeback dies on my tongue as I watch him work that t-shirt on over his head. His back muscles pull taut, flexing beneath his warm olive skin. I’m about to pee my pants.
“Would you stop?”
“I…can’t.”
I’ll chastise myself for this later. In bed, when I replay this interaction moment by excruciating moment, I’ll curse myself for not getting it together. Never show weakness, Audrey.
“Call your mom,” he says with a shake of his head.
Right.
I dial her number from Noah’s phone and spin around to face the window. I think it’ll help, but it’s pitch-black out and Noah is reflected in the glass. He’s staring at me with a grouchy expression, his hands propped on his hips.
My mom answers on the first ring.
“Hello? Who is this?” Her tone turns threatening. “If you have my daughter—”
“Mom, it’s me. Relax. My phone died.”
“Oh thank god.” Then she calls out to my dad. “Peter, you can hang up with the sheriff! I’ve got her!”
“Please tell me you weren’t really—”
“Whose phone is this? I don’t recognize the number.”
“My coworker’s.”
I try to leave it at that, but my mom is a certified sleuth.
“Oh, Noah? Noah Peterson? How is he doing?”
“Fine.”
“Just as handsome as ever?” She whistles like a construction worker catcalling on the sidewalk. “If I were twenty years younger and your father were dead…”
I look around Noah’s desk for a sharp object to impale myself with. “Yes, Mom. The pasta really is better over here.”
Noah laughs behind me. “Tell your mom I said hi.”
I whirl around in my chair. “Stop listening!”
He shrugs, unbothered. “It can’t be helped. The room is quiet and your mom talks pretty loud.”
“Oh is that him?!” My mom sounds positively giddy. It’s like I’ve got George Clooney here with me. “Put him on! Put him on!”
“No. Mom, I’m not—”
Noah wrenches the phone out of my hand, and before I know it, they’re having a little tête-à-tête.
She could be unveiling all of my deep dark secrets. I don’t know because I can’t hear a word she’s saying. Unlike Noah, I don’t have supersonic hearing.
“Hi, Mrs. Cohen. It is good to finally meet you,” Noah tells my mom.
And then, “I completely agree.”
He grins diabolically at me while my mom keeps right on talking. What could she possibly be saying?!
I stand up and try to get closer, but Noah stiff-arms me with a hand to my chest.
“Put it on speakerphone,” I demand through clenched teeth.
He ignores me.
“You know, I was just thinking the same thing. You’re so astute, Mrs. Cohen.”
I hear her coquettish giggle on the other end of the line.
“Stop flirting with my mom!” I whisper-hiss.
“Really?!” he exclaims like he’s never heard anything more interesting in his entire life. “The millionth visitor? You must be a lucky gal.”
“Mom! HANG UP! RIGHT NOW!”
“Oh, you need to go get dinner started? I’ll let you go. Want me to hand you back to Audrey first? No? Okay, I’ll tell her.”
The moment the call ends, his smile drops and he steps away from me. All that charm gone in a flash.
“Your mom says bye,” he says flatly.
“She didn’t say she loves me?”
“Strange. She must have forgotten.”
I leap toward him and hold up my hands like I’m strangling the air. Even with an exasperated “Argh!”, it doesn’t satisfy my urge to kill. Noah looks like he’s standing in front of an angry little mouse he could squash with his shoe. He cocks one eyebrow before he takes my hands and lifts them to his neck. So much muscle at my fingertips.
“Do your worst, Audrey Cohen,” he goads.
Oh, if only I could.
What a sweet way to end this all, here and now.
I tighten my hands around his neck, but sadly, my strength fails me. It’s not a death grip so much as a soft squeeze. I sigh and let my hands drop.
“I hate you,” I say with all the passion drained out of me.
“Then end this. Say, Noah, you’re the winner. I’ve loved you. I’ve always loved you.”
Panic seizes me. “Never.”
I walk around him, leave his room, and slam the door behind me.
Chapter Nine
“So listen, I think I’m going to go for it with Noah.”
The butt of my croissant is sticking out of my mouth and I’m midbite when Gabriella comes over to my table in the dining hall the next morning with this piece of information.
I hold up a finger to let her know I need to finish chewing before I can continue this conversation I’m definitely interested in having. Not.
“Sorry.” She laughs, inviting herself into the vacant seat across from me.
I was eating alone with a book flipped open in front of me. I hadn’t looked up in the last ten minutes. I thought I was giving off a gentle Do Not Approach vibe, but I guess I was wrong. Next time, I’ll hang a Do Not Disturb sign on my nose.