Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 173796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Plus, I had a lot of fun last night. Having someone to talk to outside of my normal group was refreshing in a way I’ve never experienced.
I love talking to Cam and I’d trust her with all things in my world, but I had a fresh mind with a fresh outlook and I think it was exactly what I needed. While it seemed to bother him that I was upset, he wasn’t wounded by the situation as me, Chase, and Cameron were, or as Brady or Mason would be if they knew. It’s different, and I love that.
We didn’t sit around the entire time working to wash away or prevent awkwardness. It was fun and stress-free. It was easy.
Noah being here now, though, I one thousand percent did not expect. It was easy to see he was being genuine last night, that he honestly wanted to hear what I had to say, but I didn’t exactly think past that conversation.
Now I can’t help but wonder if Noah could use a new friend as much as I need one.
Hurrying out of the shower, I throw on my favorite ‘death before decaf’ T-shirt and a pair of leggings. I run a comb through my long dark hair, brush my teeth, then grab my coffee and step out of the bathroom, wet-haired and fresh-faced.
Noah’s on the couch, as I expected, so I fall into the space beside him. He grins my way, passing me the ham breakfast sandwich and remote as he takes a bite of his own breakfast.
I look up at the TV as the commercial ends to find he’s about twenty minutes into the movie Grown Ups, so I toss the controller to the side and settle in to watch with him.
Once I’m done eating, I cradle my coffee in my palms, folding my legs up on the couch.
“Thank you, Noah,” I tell him again, peering at him over the rim of my cup when he looks my way. “For last night and today. For right now. I’ve locked myself away a lot lately, so it’s really nice to have you here.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
“I do.”
“You don’t.” Noah twists to face me. “I came because I wanted to.”
I let my head drop onto the cushion, smiling up at him. “Well, thank you anyway.”
A small shadow falls over his eyes, but he nods.
“I was too busy being a baby last night, I didn’t get to tell you, but you play like a boss.”
That brings a wide smile back to his face, but he turns away, shielding it from me.
“I’m serious. Your very first throw the first game and that quarterback keeper? So smooth.” I chuckle when he shakes his head, still not looking at me. “And last night, that Flea Flicker was genius. I feel like a jerk because I totally spaced on you being the main man until I saw you last night and remembered. You’re a badass, number nineteen.”
Noah’s mouth is still upturned, but he stays facing forward, only moving his eyes my way as he attempts to downplay his skill set. “Last night’s game was a tough one, but we did it. As a team.”
I pull my lips in to bite back my grin.
He’s so different from my brother and the boys. Mason would have said something along the lines of ‘hell yeah I’m a badass’ or added to the plays I listed, but I guess that’s not Noah’s style. He’s humble, and that’s rare, considering his position. For any athlete playing at this level, really.
He almost has this tortured soul vibe going on, but not the kind that makes you bitter or cruel. The kind that stems from loss and let downs, where you’re almost afraid to want because the universe might decide the jokes on you, and down another tor you tumble.
“Mason’s been killing it at practice,” he shares then, shifting the attention from himself. “He’s going to do really well if he keeps it up.”
I study his features, find not a hint of insincerity. He truly believes what he’s saying, and he speaks with no malice or jealousy, no threat or fear that he’ll lose his spot to the rookie superstar. And my brother is a superstar.
“You want him to do well.” I meant it as a statement, but the awe of the situation seeps into my tone, and it sounds like a question.
Noah’s head tugs back a little, taken off guard, and I almost worry I’ve offended him, but his chuckle soon follows, my muscles easing as a result.
“Hell yeah, I do.” He nods. “Mason’s got it. He’s good. Great even. We needed him tonight and he delivered better than expected, if I’m being honest. When I took that last hit, I had to step out. Their defense had my timing and footwork clocked by the fourth quarter. When that happens and we’ve got a solid second, it’s a no-brainer to make the swap. Mason went out there and shook ‘em up with ease.” He laughs, and, for some reason, the boyish sound makes me grin. “No one expected the rookie QB to come in there and raise hell, but he did. Showed ‘em up too.” He smiles, finally turning toward me.