Good Girl (Love Unexpectedly 2)

“Kissed her?”

I remain silent.

Finn chuckles. “I fucking knew it.”

“Shut up, man.”

Jenny

When I asked Noah if I could make use of his TV, I was mostly trying to stall his departure, find out where he was going.

But after he leaves, I realize that I’m not in the mood to read, and my mind needs a little break from the constant melodies. It’s like that sometimes. This past week the music’s been nonstop, and I haven’t been able to write it down fast enough.

But I’ve hit a wall.

It’s almost like the backlog of the past year, when I wasn’t able to write even a single lyric¸ came rushing out all at once. I’ve got a couple of songs that feel solid. It’s just that they feel like old songs…songs that I thought up months ago and which are just now making it onto the page.

In other words, I’ve done the easy stuff, and now the harder stuff is lurking. The harder songs are always the last to come. The most painful.

And tonight I’m not in the mood.

Noah’s little cottage is nicer than I expect. I mean, it’s not luxury, not by a long shot, but it’s cozy. His bed is made, or at least there’s a dark navy comforter pulled up over it and pillowcases that look clean.

The rest of his furniture is sparse. A tiny kitchen table and ugly chairs I’m guessing are left over from the Eddingtons. A couple of old bookshelves, mostly empty. But the couch looks new, and I find out quickly it is very comfy.

I’m not much of a TV person. I’ve always been too busy to keep up with the latest shows, but I do love movies, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I love the Harry Potter series, which means I let out an actual squeal of delight when I see there’s a marathon happening.

By the time I tune in, the first two are over, which is a bummer since they’re my favorites, but The Prisoner of Azkaban definitely beats sitting alone in my bedroom.

The dogs have joined me.

Ranger tried to insist on sitting on Dolly, but that worked out not at all, so I’ve positioned myself in the middle, setting up a cozy little nest with a flannel blanket for Ranger on my right, and using one of Noah’s pristine-looking pillows for Dolly on my left.

He earned it after his parting words about his tongue doing naughty things.

But I’m not thinking about that. Nope.

The Goblet of Fire’s just getting started when Ranger takes a break from begging for my popcorn (unabashedly stolen from Finn’s stash) and starts to bark. A second later, the front door opens, and Noah’s standing there all big and brooding. He’s home earlier than I expected, and I have a quick debate with myself on how to play it.

Oh, I was just leaving—sorry to invade your space!

Or…

You’re insane if you think I’m turning off the TV in the middle of an HP marathon.

Or…

Take me.

Before I have a chance to decide, he sees me curled up on his couch, and freezes in the doorway.

Ranger leaps down with a happy bark, going

to greet his master with enthusiasm, as though it’s been days. Dolly stays put, but she’s apparently used to Noah by now, because she doesn’t yip. She just sits up and wags her little tail with so much excitement she’s practically levitating.

Noah hunches down to greet Ranger with a quiet “Hey, boy,” but his gaze is locked on me the entire time, as though trying to figure out how he feels about my presence. Then his gaze slides to Dolly, who gives a happy little sigh at being acknowledged.

“Is that my pillow?” he asks gruffly.