CARLA
When I glance back at Noah, he’s deep in thought, as if he’s busy working out some impossible equation.
I place my hand on his thigh, and it instantly snaps him out of his thoughts. Leaning toward him, I say, “Relax, Noah. You’re going to burst a vein with all that thinking.”
I get up and go to the kitchen, so I can refill my glass. As I take a sip, Jase comes into the kitchen. When his eyes land on me, he comes to throw his arm around my shoulders, giving me a sideways hug. “How’s school?” He takes the glass from my hands and takes a sip before handing it back.
I shrug. “It’s okay.”
“And the workload?” He asks as he helps himself to a slice of pizza.
“A lot. I’ve spent most of my time in the library.”
“You’ll get into the swing of things,” he says. My brother’s eyes lock on me, and then he tilts his head. “Besides school, is everything else okay? No one’s giving you shit?”
Jase is the most perceptive person I know. I shrug again. “It’s different from high school. You know? It’s… lonely.”
He takes a step closer to me, concern tightening his features. “What do you mean it’s lonely? You have the other girls. Forest and Aria are also there.”
“Yeah,” I smile at him so he won’t worry. “I’m just struggling to adjust. Don’t mind me.”
Jase’s eyes sharpen on my face, then he asks, “There’s nothing else bothering you?”
I shake my head, and stepping forward, I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my cheek against his shoulder. “I’m good, but you know what would help a lot?”
Jase hugs me back, muttering, “What?”
“All your notes and assignments.” I pull back, and grinning at him, I say, “Pretty please, Jase.”
“On one condition.” A sneaky grin tugs at his lips. “Admit I’m the smarter one.”
I scrunch my nose and pull a disgruntled face, then mutter, “You’re smarter.”
A victorious smile splits over his face. “I’ll email them tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” I watch as he walks out, then I whisper, “I didn’t say you’re smarter than me, though.” Letting out a chuckle, I take a sip from my wine.
Walking back into the living room, Jase has taken Mila’s seat, and he has her on his lap, then he says, “Remind me to email all my notes from my MBA to Carla.”
Mila glances at me. “Are you struggling with the work? I can help.”
I sit back down next to Noah. “I’ll be okay. Thanks, though.”
Noah looks down at me. “It’s only been a week. What could you possibly be struggling with?”
I slant my eyes up at him. “And here I thought we were doing so well.”
He frowns. “I’m asking so I’ll know what you need help with.”
My eyebrows dart up. “Wow, you suck at offering help.” Then I give him the sweetest smile I can conjure up. “But it’s so heartwarming to know you care. I’m good, though.”
Noah tilts his head at me. “You’re not going to stop with the caring shit, are you?”
I shake my head and impersonate him, “Nope.” I lock eyes with him. “Not until you admit you don’t hate me.”
A shocked expression flashes over his way-too-hot features. “I don’t hate you.” Then he frowns again. “You think I hate you?”
I shrug and take a sip from my glass before muttering, “With the intensity of a thousand suns.” Lowering my voice, so only Noah will hear, I mutter, “You tell a guy you love him, and all of a sudden, you’re public enemy number one.”
Noah leans closer as well, whispering, “I just wanted to give you space so you could… you know… move on.”
Turning my head, our eyes connect, and there’s instantly an explosive current jumping between us.
Unable to stop myself, I ask, “Am I really the only one who feels this?”
“Feel what?” Noah pulls back, and bringing his hand to his face, he rests his chin on his thumb. I watch as his mind begins to work overtime again, trying to figure something out.
As brilliant as this man is, he can be slow when it comes to the emotional side of things.
I pat his thigh again. “Don’t overthink things. I wasn’t expecting an answer.”
Chapter 6
NOAH
Sitting in our suite's living room, I read a study done by Havard Medical School. It’s on love and the effects it has on the brain.
Levels of the stress hormone cortisol increase during the initial phase of romantic love, marshaling our bodies to cope with the “crisis” at hand.
“Well, that fucking explains it,” I mutter. “Carla’s definitely a crisis at hand.”
I keep reading, and it just says what I already knew. It’s just a chemical reaction.
Carla comes into the suite, a frown on her forehead. When she sees me, she drops down right next to me and says, “You will not believe who I just ran into.”