by Frankie Rose
THE LIBRARY is the warmest place on campus, which means it’s packed. After a full morning of classes, I met Morgan here to study but so far not much studying has been done. At least not on her part. She’s been making out with Tate for the better part of forty minutes and the librarian looks ready to cause someone bodily harm. I’m in a terrible mood anyway, so it’s probably a good thing that I’m being ignored. That is, until…
“I’m going to pretend I’m not mortally wounded that you haven’t text me since our non-date.” Noah slides into the seat beside me, hat pulled down over his ears, grinning mercilessly. I drop my pen into the crease of my book and try to produce a smile from somewhere—hard to do since my nerves are still shot from my run in with Casey Fisher. And Luke—half naked, mussed, sexy as hell Luke. Urgh. It’s not Noah’s fault, though. None of this is.
“Sorry. Aren’t you supposed to text me? Isn’t that the way it’s done anymore?”
Noah shakes his head, still flashing me a full row of pearly whites. “The metro male is no long the pursuer, but the pursued. I’m gonna need you to apologize.”
“Apologize?”
“For giving me two sleepless nights in a row. It’s fairly unkind, torturing a man so.”
“Noah Richards!” Tate declares, slapping the study table. He and Morgan have finally come up for air, and my best friend looks positively devilish. I don’t need her observing any interaction I have with Noah; she’ll only interfere, which never ends well. Tate reaches over and bumps fists with Noah.
“You got those books, man?” he asks.
Noah nods, heaving his messenger bag up onto the table. “Just came by to drop them off for you. And also I wanted to stalk Avery Patterson over here, seeing as she’s making me do all the work.” He produces two textbooks the size of small telephone directories from his bag and slides them across the table. Morgan places a manicured hand on top of them and eyes the two of us.
“She’s making you do all the work, huh? That’s rude, Avery.”
Oh boy. Here we go.
“That’s what I thought,” Noah laughs. “Unless…” he turns to look at me, “I’ve got completely the wrong idea, haven’t I? I’ve been walking around for two days thinking you fell for my pathetic attempts to seduce you, and now I’m here embarrassing myself because you’re not interested.”
“Oh she’s interested, honey,” Morgan purrs. I want to slap her stupid, but she’s freaking crazy in a fight and I’d only lose. It’s better keeping her on side, so I just shoot her a foul look. The look she sends back is completely oblivious—you can thank me later.
“So you did fall for my pathetic attempts at seduction, then?”
I squirm, trying to avoid the toe of Morgan’s Steve Madden boot under the table as she does her best to bruise my shins. I’ll hear about this for weeks if I don’t play along. “Of course I did. Hook, line and sinker.”
Noah’s bravado doesn’t slip, he’s a consummate professional when it comes to flirtation, but I do notice a flicker of relief in his eyes. Tate, who’s been rifling in his wallet, tosses Noah a wad of cash across the table. “Thanks, dude. Would have had to pay a fortune to buy these new.”
“No worries, I don’t need ‘em anymore.”
“What are you doing today?”
Noah bumps me with his shoulder, grinning. “Got reading to do later. But right now? Right now I’m taking Avery Patterson for lunch.”
******
