Finally, settling back down on the seat, I try not to fidget lest I draw Kaeli’s attention. Because now that it’s clear that Ezra is alright, she has calmed a smidgen, enough to notice my unease.
She leans closer to me, muttering in my ear, “That was a close one, huh? I’m glad Ezra is okay.”
Of course, she’s worried about Ezra. I am too. But I’m also worried about Noah, who endured the brunt of it all. Yet, I give her a tight smile, my heart still hammering, “Yeah, thank God.”
With a nod, her attention goes back to Ezra on the ice. It’s clear, though, he pulled a muscle or something because for a second, he almost loses his balance. But I can’t bring myself to care about him in this moment.
All I can think about is Noah as he glares at Kyle, who goads him with a wink, knowing Noah can’t reach him, not that it would’ve deterred him if Noah could. The game goes on, and the Tampa Titans score the winning goal.
You could ask me who scored it, and I wouldn’tbe able to answer, not that I cared. Not when blood was gushing out from a cut on Noah’s jaw.
My feet begging me to go to him, tend to him. Not that I think he’d appreciate it.
* * *
I pace in front of Noah’s apartment, trying to talk myself out of this very stupid idea.
I can’t just go and knock on his door uninvited. Who said he’d even wanna see me? He must be too exhausted to even pretend to entertain me.
I’m not his girlfriend, not even his friend. I’m nothing to him, really. Just a woman he ate out.
ONCE.
I think back to when I had this fantastic thought of running here. After the game, in which the Boston Bandits lost, I went straight home, despite my heart—my stupid heart—telling me to go to Noah.
I even laid down in my bed, changed into a pair of sleeping shorts and a loose t-shirt. But I couldn’t stop tossing and turning in my bed.
All I could think of was his bruises, the bleeding cuts, and I wondered who would tend to him. He lives alone. He has no girlfriend. No relativeas far as I knew. Was he okay? Did he have the ointments and medicines he might need? Should I call in and check on him? Would he even answer?
Question after question swirled in my mind until I could no longer control my actions and bought him some medicines and Ubered straight to his apartment.
Now that I was here, though, I wasn’t so sure. What if he sent me on my way? Shut the door on my face? Didn’t need my help? What if he mocked me?
Sweet jelly on a pie!
Throwing my head back and looking at the moon, I let out a groan. Knowing I can’t keep pacing in front of his place like a crazy stalker, not if I didn’t want the doorman to call the cops. Nor can I turn around and leave, knowing he was hurt and might not have anyone to take care of him.
Mustering my nonexistent courage, I enter the building and straight into the elevator, my feet tapping incessantly on the floor as it takes me to his penthouse. The door slides open on his floor, and with a deep breath, I ring the bell.
A beat later, I hear the muffled voice of hissteps, and my breath gets stuck in my throat, wondering how he’ll react to seeing me at his door so late at night.
The door opens, revealing his broad build, his hair wet as a drop of water falls over his naked chest, a towel wrapped low around his waist. He must’ve taken a bath.
My eyes widen, a tingling sensation overtaking my body at how delectable he looks. His own eyes take me in from head to toe, but when a muscle in his jaw twitches, and he looks annoyed at my presence, I berate myself for coming here.
My shoulders fall, rejection stinging. Taking a step back, I apologize, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.” My fingers digging into the bag of meds.
To save myself from any more embarrassment, I turn on the heel of my feet and start to leave. A firm hold on my elbow, pulling me into his apartment, has a gasp falling out of my mouth at the sudden action.
My back finds itself pressed into his door, his tall frame towering over me, bracketing me between his hands as they press beside my head—the scent of his freshly showered body enveloping all of my senses.
God! He smells good.
“What are you doing here, Andie?” he growls, his jaw clenched tight. The water droplet from his strands falling over my eyelashes, making me blink in surprise.
Ah, yes, I came here for a reason. I raise the bag in between us, unable to speak, still very much aware of his naked chest and the towel around his waist.
He cocks his eyebrow in question, waiting for me to respond. “I…This is some ointment, I thought you could use.” When he doesn’t speak, I start to ramble. “Today, you got into a fight on the ice, and Kyle got in a few punches. And I could also see the cuts on your face and neck in the Jumbotron, and I was worried about you and thought what if you had no one to tend to you, or what if you didn’t have any first aid. How would you take care? What if—”