“Gladly,” Hannah said, but it was like Noah hadn’t even heard her. Or really even registered that they were, like, on a date, but I was the one he was talking to.
Why was that thought making my heart flutter?
Then he leaned forward and I wondered how I hadn’t noticed before how good he smelled. Clean and crisp, with some kind of expensive, masculine, woodsy scent. “You know, when I said that thing about women falling at my feet, I didn’t mean for it to be an invitation.”
He said it so flirtatiously I couldn’t even get mad. I just sat there on the floor, feeling extremely stupid. This was one of the most humiliating experiences of my entire life. Easily top five.
But not number one. Nothing could ever be more humiliating than number one.
And at some point a camera operator was going to realize that Noah was chatting with the floor and the jig would be up. “Look, I know I don’t have the right to ask for any kind of favor, but I will get someone I love in trouble if you keep talking to me. You really do have to pretend like I’m not here.”
He studied me for a moment, then gave me a little half smile. “Sure thing. But you owe me one.”
What? I owed him one? What would that even entail? This night just kept getting more and more bizarre.
I heard one of the presenters say, “And the nominees are . . . ,” and almost flew into a blind panic. What if it was Noah’s category? And he won? Then there would be cameras everywhere and they would definitely catch me and Shelby would never speak to me again!
But it wasn’t his category. I let out a sigh of relief.
This floor was gross. It felt sticky underneath me. I was definitely going to have to pay that stain-removal fee to the rental place, and there went my food budget for the next two weeks.
His date kept her distance from me, hostility radiating out of her every flawless pore, but it was almost like Noah had forgotten that both of us were there. Although he did keep accidentally bumping into me with his large feet and shooting me apologetic looks. Which surprised me, given that our conversation had begun with him accusing me of stalking him. And if anything was stalking behavior, I was pretty sure this was it.
Especially when I noticed he was wearing socks with pizza slices on them. That was unexpected, and I may or may not have accidentally brushed my fingers against them just to make sure they were real. He didn’t seem to notice.
And despite telling myself not to stare, I kept sneaking glances at him. Even though he’d spent most of our brief time together being the worst, there was just something about him that made it so I had to keep looking. Like he was subliminally pulling me in and I was powerless to resist.
He seemed to always be in motion, crossing and uncrossing his legs, flexing and unflexing his huge hands, shifting from one side of his seat to the other. I wondered if he was bored. Or was just one of those people who had so much pent-up energy they hated sitting still.
Then he ran his fingers through his hair, and the gesture made my stomach quiver and my mouth go completely dry. I’d seen him do it a hundred times on-screen, but it landed completely differently in person.
To distract myself I tried listening to the speech of the winner, but it was almost like the entire world had faded away and Noah Douglas was the only real thing in it.
What was wrong with me?
Fortunately this winner was brief and to the point, and the lights went back down. Noah quickly got up and offered me his hand.
This time I took it, and it was like a thousand tiny atom bombs exploded across the surface of my skin. “Thanks,” I said, and it shocked me how wobbly my voice sounded, how shallow my breathing had become. We stood there, our hands clasped, and something happened. Something I didn’t recognize. And was most likely entirely one-sided.
I wondered if I should apologize for my earlier behavior or thank him for not making a scene and getting me in trouble or whether I should say goodbye or . . . I didn’t know what to do, so I just let go and darted out into the aisle, wanting to put this