She rolls her eyes as the front door opens, and Nolan appears. His blonde hair is slightly mussed perfection, and that damn jaw has my gaze slipping to his lips before glancing at the Camden Knight’s tee that seems to emphasize his broad chest, wide shoulders, and Chris Hemsworth-worthy biceps.
Katie clears her throat, and my attention snaps to her as my heart rate accelerates and I straighten, feeling the hint of guilt for nearly—partially—checking out her brother.
“Maybe you need to get out and do something to keep yourself from pre-suffering. It’s Friday night,” Katie says.
“Whoa, whoa.” Nolan moves closer, setting a drink and brown takeout box on the counter between Katie and me and then placing his hand across her forehead. “Are you sick or have you been abducted? Because you may not realize this, but you just suggested someone go out and have a good time.”
Katie bats him away. “Why are you here?”
He smiles triumphantly. “I live here.”
“But it’s Friday night,” Katie says. “Why aren’t you out at a party or making poor decisions in someone else’s house.”
His lips twist with amusement that doesn’t hit his eyes. “We have a game tomorrow.”
“When has that ever stopped you?” Katie asks.
His smile turns fiendish. “Since I gained roommates to hang out with.”
Katie rolls her eyes. “We’re not having a party. Don’t even think about it.”
Nolan raises both hands, doing his best to look innocent, though it’s a stretch even with the stance. “I wouldn’t dare break the house rules. It’s just me and my team snack.” He motions to the drink and box.
“I can’t believe they make you guys’ snacks. You guys are so pampered. I swear, they’d wipe your asses if you let them,” Katie says, reaching for the box. She opens the flaps, revealing popcorn, chicken tenders, and two granola bars. “This isn’t a snack, it’s a meal.” She grabs a piece of popcorn, tossing it in her mouth.
“They make you snacks?” The question is out of my mouth before I can stop it. I’ve been avoiding Nolan all week, in part because I’ve begun questioning if our conversation was actually an elaborate dream considering he’s done and said nothing, and also because of the flair of intrigue that flashes warm in my chest whenever I see him.
“Jealous?” he asks, turning his gaze—which is bluer tonight—on me. “You only have to run twenty miles, and practice forty hours a week to earn it.” He continues to look at me, tracking across my face as though we’re old friends who haven’t seen each other in years.
“Don’t pout,” Katie says. “You love it. You love the attention and the game and all the snacks.”
His gaze moves from my mouth to Katie. “I didn’t say I don’t.”
Katie grabs another handful of popcorn and turns to me. “You should go out. Have fun. Find that P.A. you were hanging out with last year. What was his name? Ezra?” For most of our freshmen year, Katie was the most studious and intense person I knew. She spent every moment studying, skipping parties, and all the activities others were clamoring to do with their newfound freedom. Hannah was nearly as dedicated and watching them influenced me to work just as hard. However, Katie changed her tune after meeting Carsen last spring. I’m still trying to acclimate to this version of her that doesn’t consider college parties ridiculous, risky, and misogynistic.
Nolan’s looking at her like she’s a stranger to him as well. “Did you just encourage underage drinking and fun?”
Katie flips him off. “Just not at the frat houses. Are you and Ezra still dating? I haven’t seen him since you’ve been back.”
Nolan’s heavy gaze makes me want to lie and say I am. I equally want to avoid this topic altogether.
“He graduated and moved to Florida.”
Katie frowns. “He was cute.”
Flippant remarks sharpen my tongue, so I sheath my words and give a tight nod.
“You should still go out,” Katie says. “There are a million parties tonight with it being so early in the year. Hannah might be up for going out. You don’t want to go out there alone. There are way too many assholes. And avoid the vileness of frat row.”
I smirk. Maybe she hasn’t changed entirely. “Maybe tomorrow. Tonight, I need to make a list of people I can give a five-minute speech on that won’t put my class to sleep on Monday.”
“You can talk about anyone?” Katie asks, making the assignment sound painstakingly simple.
I nod.
“Why are you sweating over five minutes?”
“Because public speaking gives me hives.”