Noah’s mouth tugs up. “Guess that means we’re losing our security deposit.”
I spread my arms out and half whisper, half yell, “What the hell? She’s not a whore.”
“Never said she was.” He crosses the room and opens the fridge. “Want a beer?”
Sure. Why don’t I go ahead and light a joint while I’m at it? I follow him and place my hand on the open door of the fridge to get his attention while still whispering. “I’m serious. She’s not like that. Treat her with some respect.”
Noah twists off the top of an MGD and surveys me while he swallows. “I thought I was treating you both with respect.” He also lowers his voice when I gesture at the bathroom to indicate I don’t need her overhearing this conversation. “I tried to leave.”
“You made her think she was a one-night stand.” I slam the refrigerator door shut.
“Excuse the shit out of me. I thought she was.” He points his beer at me. “You’re not dating. The last girl you touched was Beth.”
My fists ball at the mention of her name, and Noah waves me off. “And don’t start on that shit. She’s gone, she’s happy and she ain’t coming back. And, yeah, I still talk to her because she’s the closest thing I’ve got to a sister, so I can say her damned name if I want to.”
“Noah,” I say as a warning.
“Beth,” he tauntingly whispers. “Beth, Beth, Beth, Beth, Beth. If you’re going to take a swing at me, bro, do it, because I’m damn tired of walking on eggshells because of that girl.”
My heart rips open again with every acknowledgment of her existence. He needs to stop and he needs to stop now. Especially with Rachel here. I like her and I don’t need Noah ruining it with her by reminding me of a past that will never change. “You’re a cranky son of a bitch when you’re tired.”
The tension between us drains when Noah chuckles and swigs the beer. I’m not good at much, but I’m good at deflecting. He kneads his eyes with his fists again and releases a long breath. “Look, I walk in at 1:00 a.m. to find you holding a pretty girl wearing your shirt.”
He’s right. I overreacted. “Noah,” I interrupt.
“Do I sound like I’m done talking? It looked like you were hooking up so I assumed you were hooking up. My apologies. I’m sorry. I’m the ass**le. It’s done so get the f**k over it. As for making her feel like a one-night stand, last time I checked, saying ‘s’up’ doesn’t translate to ‘thanks for banging my best friend.’ And do you want to tell me why the hell I’m whispering in my own apartment?”
“Because I like her.”
Noah blinks because words like that don’t come easily from me. He tilts up the bottle, finishes the rest and places the empty container on the counter. “That changes things.”
“As a friend,” I add quickly but then realize friends don’t kiss. Shit, I’ve messed this up.
The door to the bathroom opens and we both stare at Rachel. She plays with the gold bracelets on her wrist. “Sorry it took so long. My bracelets fell and rolled behind the sink and...it took a bit to get them out.”
Even Noah visibly cringes at the thought of anyone putting their hand in the two-inch gap behind the sink. “You should have called me,” I say. “I would have gotten them.”
Her gaze switches between me and Noah. “It’s all right. I got them. So—” she rocks on her toes “—are you ready to go?”
“Yeah. Let’s roll.”
Rachel gathers her coat from the couch and pauses when Noah says her name. Damn, Noah, don’t screw this up.
“Rachel,” he repeats, obviously searching for something good to say. “It was nice to meet you. You should come back. Meet my girl, Echo. We’ll hang out or some shit like that.”
Or some shit like that. I want to slam his head and my own into the wall.
“Okay.” She has that what-the-hell look people get when they watch reality TV. “It was nice to meet you, too.”
When her back’s to us both, I mouth at Noah, Or some shit like that?
He mouths back, I’m trying.
I unbolt the door and when she steps into the hallway, I whisper to him, “Real elegant, man. And the girls thought you were f**king smooth.”
Noah laughs. “I am smooth, bro. But now I’m only smooth with Echo.”
Right before I shut the door, I flip Noah off. His laughter rings through the hallway.
At the bottom of the stairs, Rachel waits for me to open the door. I’ve never seen a girl wait like that before or known a girl who’d make the assumption that a guy would open it for her. Rachel was probably raised to expect guys to open doors, and she’s probably around enough guys who were taught to do it.
I like that she waits, and I like opening it for her. When I was a kid, I preferred the guys my mom dated who did crazy stuff like that.
The cold air clings to my bare arms as we walk out onto the sidewalk. The temperature has dropped dramatically since we first met at the drag race. A moment that feels like lifetimes ago.
Rachel shivers and places her hands in her coat pockets, leaving me unsure of what to do. Is she cold and I should put my arm around her shoulder, or is she telling me to stay clear? The muscles tighten in my neck and I shake my head to clear the chaos. Get a grip, man. How can I be confused over a girl?
“Your roommate seems nice,” she says with forced lightness.