The Sweet Talker (Boston Hawks Hockey #1) - Gina Azzi Page 0,58

unaccustomed to having a girlfriend climb into bed with me when I’m hurting or drink a bottle of wine with me because I’m angry.

It’s a hell of a lot nicer than I thought it would be.

I fix a mug of coffee and plop down at the kitchen table, unable to keep my eyes open. Thank God I’m off until Monday. I can spend the weekend kicking my ass back into gear. Is my focus off because of Noah? Am I that caught up on him?

Emotion sweeps through me, making me weepy. Yes, it appears that I am.

Rolling my eyes at myself, I force myself to get up. I take a hot shower, hoping it will wake me up. But after I blow-dry my hair, I tug on clean pajamas and crawl back into bed, prepared to sleep the day away.

The incessant ringing of my phone pulls me from sleep. My eyes open slowly, each eyelid feeling like it weighs roughly the same as a sumo wrestler. I pull myself into a seated position and grope around for my phone, finding it under a pillow.

“Yeah?” I answer, my voice heavy with sleep.

“Indy?” Noah asks, a thread of concern in his tone.

“What time is it?”

“Just after six.”

“At night?” I ask, alarmed that I literally slept the entire day away.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I toss myself back on my pillows, wondering why he even bothered to call after he practically set me up on a date with my best friend just last night. “What do you need?” I think my abruptness startles Noah but I don’t care.

Why the hell is he even calling me after being so standoffish last night?

“Uh, nothing. I just, I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m good.”

“Oh. Okay, good.”

Silence stretches between us, and where it used to be comfortable, it’s not. It’s heavy. Tense. Awkward as fuck.

Noah sighs heavily, “I’m sorry for being weird yesterday.”

“It’s fine,” I blow him off. Sure, I’m desperate for an explanation but if it’s the one I’m pretty sure he’s going to give me—that he’s done with me—then I’m not up for hearing it right now.

“Look, I’m close to your place. Can I swing by? Bring dinner?”

I hesitate, wondering if I even want to see him. But my stomach grumbles and I realize I haven’t eaten anything today so I mutter out, “Sure.”

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Pizza.”

He chuckles. “Okay. I’ll be there in a bit.”

I hang up without saying goodbye. The tug of sleep is strong but I force myself to swing my legs over the side of my bed and stand. A wave of dizziness crashes over me and I sit back down, dropping my face into my hands. Shit, I really do need to eat something. How the heck am I so hungover from a few glasses of wine?

When the spell passes, I stand up and pull on a hoodie and some fuzzy slippers. I don’t even care what I look like. I’m too tired to care. Too confused and annoyed to want to read into anything Noah says.

I just want the damn pizza.

I pull the door open the moment he knocks.

Noah stands there, looking irritable with his dark eyes and messy hair. His winter coat is open and a plain black shirt is visible. He holds out a pizza, which I take and turn around, not bothering to say hello.

The door closes behind him and he follows me the few steps into my kitchen.

“Indy,” his tone is apologetic.

I turn and glance at him.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“Which part?” I ask, pulling plates and cutlery out of kitchen drawers. Placing them on the table, I uncork the wine bottle Claire and I didn’t finish last night and raise it.

He shakes his head so I pour a glass for myself.

Noah sits next to me and stares at me, his expression unreadable but his eyes are filled with regret. “I’m sorry I was such a dick last night.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

I shrug and take a sip of my wine. “Whatever, Noah. Just so you know, I don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Take guys home for holidays. Thanksgiving is my holiday, it’s my favorite day of the year, and it was stupid that I was excited to spend it with you. Especially when this”—I gesture between us—“isn’t really a thing.”

His frown deepens and his brows furrow. “I wanted to spend the day with you too. It was nice of your mom to invite me.”

I take a gulp of wine this time. My skin feels hot and