Undeclared (14 page)

“Grace, meet Finn. He’s one of my roommates.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said. Noah still hadn’t released me, and I could only do an awkward wave with my left hand. Noah drew me down on one of the sofas next to him.

I settled in next to Noah and pulled out my psychology book. Noah grabbed his laptop, crossed one foot over the opposite leg and stretched out his arm on the back of the sofa, which was so short that his fingers were right behind my hair again. I wondered if the ends of my hair were seeking out his fingers, like little sentient beings searching for warmth. I wanted to lean back and rest my head against his hand. I remembered the comforting weight of it as we had walked to the diner and the sure strength when he had massaged my neck at the Delt house. Lana’s theory about overexposure wasn’t working. I tried to focus on something other than my growing physical response to his presence.

“What’re you studying?” I asked Noah.

He grimaced. “My CFA Level 1.”

At my look of mystification, he elaborated, “It’s a finance certification exam with three levels. My first one is in December. When I pass, my next one is in June, and the third is in the following year.”

“Noah’s a finance whiz,” Finn interjected, taking a sip of his contraband liquid. He looked at ease, like he had sat in the chair a hundred times before.

“Finn, are you a student?” I asked. I didn’t recognize him, but he might be an upperclassman.

“Nope, just looking at stuff.”

“Finn’s a house flipper,” Noah explained. “But really, he’s a frustrated wannabe architect.”

“Noah’s only partially correct,” Finn said. “I look through these design books to get ideas on how to make our houses more interesting for buyers. You don’t happen to have your real estate license, do you?”

I shook my head.

“One of our roommates dated my last realtor, and now she won’t talk to me,” Finn said glumly. “I hate the realtor side of flipping.”

“I don’t know anything about real estate. I didn’t even know you had to have a license.” I admitted.

They didn’t ask me any more questions, and we all settled in to study. A few minutes into reading, I felt Noah’s fingers combing through the ends of my hair. I wasn’t sure if he was doing it absently or on purpose, but it was distracting. My physical interactions with other guys may have been limited, but I knew friends didn’t stroke each other’s hair. The hairs of my neck stood up and I felt goose pimples rise on my neck and chase down my arms. Noah noticed my little shiver and pulled out a sweatshirt from his backpack, offering it to me.

Shrugging it on, I tried not to be too obvious about sniffing the fabric. The clean, spring scent that I had associated with Noah floated around me, interfering with my ability to focus on my pages. It took a masterful effort to shut out all the Noah influences and read.

We had all been silent for some time when Finn stood up and said, “I’m hungry. Let’s go eat.” He stretched and his T-shirt rode up, showing some nice solid abs. Did all the guys in Noah’s house do a thirty-minute ab routine? Was that a prerequisite? Like on the application, it asked if you had a steady job, could afford the rent, and oh, by the way, can you do one hundred sit ups in one minute?

“Hey, eyes up here,” Finn said, teasing me. I tried to beat back the blush that I could feel heating my cheeks. I wasn’t even ogling him. His shirt had pulled up and I couldn’t help noticing. Finn had dark markings under his shirt, a tattoo of something winged.

“Wear longer shirts,” I said, but my attention had fixated on Noah. I hadn’t seen him without his shirt off, and his arms were bare of any ink. I wondered if he had tattoos somewhere that I hadn’t yet seen.

“Ooh, I’m being disrespected because of how I’m dressed,” Finn said, interrupting my fantasies of Noah disrobing.

“Knock it off,” Noah shook his head with mild impatience. “I thought you were hungry.” He picked up his books and stuffed them in his backpack. Then he grabbed mine and held it open. I looked at him in confusion, and he shook the bag. Apparently he was going to hold it open while I put everything in.

Noah zipped up my backpack when I was done and took both bags, slinging them over his shoulder. He gestured for me to walk in front of him and they filed in behind me.

“Where do you want to eat?” Noah asked Finn.

“I’ve got Bo’s card,” Finn replied. “We can eat on campus.”

“That okay with you, Grace?” Noah asked.

I nodded. All this time spent with Noah was going to go to my head. I knew I should probably head home, but I wasn’t sure how I’d be able to pull my backpack off Noah’s shoulder. We walked down the stairs, and, as we were headed to the doors of the library, I saw Mike standing behind the reference desk. He stared at me with raised eyebrows, and I gave him a little wave. I didn’t have an explanation for Mike about Noah and me because I couldn’t define the relationship myself.

Outside, Noah walked beside me, and Finn walked backwards, facing us. “What’s your superpower?” he asked me.

“My super-what?”

“Your superpower,” Noah said, smirking. “This is how Finn determines whether he can hang out with you. He classifies people according to their response.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of pressure,” I said. Rearranging my face so it looked like I was deep in thought, I pretended to contemplate the question and then answered, “Invisibility.”

“Not X-ray vision?” Finn teased, I guess referring to my faux-pas of staring at his exposed abdomen.

“What’s the point? You’re already walking around flaunting yourself,” I shot back. It was easy to engage in conversation with Finn. There weren’t any emotional stakes. “Anyway, what about you?”

“Flying,” both of them said in unison and then high fived.

“Really? Flying?” I asked. “Invisibility is so much cooler.”

“It’s not bad,” Noah conceded. “But the ability to fly is the best superpower ever. Why do you think Iron Man’s suit has rockets?”

“Iron Man’s suit has everything.”

“Spiderman wishes he could fly. It’s what puts the Super in Superman,” Finn declared.

We then debated the value of various super powers. Apparently my chosen superpower passed Finn’s internal test because I wasn’t told to go home.

When we arrived at the QC Café, I realized I was pretty hungry. Instead of pretending that I loved lettuce, I followed Noah to the grill. I ordered a burger, assuming he would too, except Noah didn’t order a burger. He ordered a plain grilled chicken breast and even asked for extra vegetables. Finn detoured to another part of the café altogether, but we met at the check-out line.

“What is that plate of food?” Noah asked Finn as we paid. It was clear from Noah’s expression he was offended by Finn’s selection.

“I think it’s cheesy tamales,” Finn replied. “Not all of us have to maintain our girlish figures.”

“Get your food, you clown,” Noah replied, shaking his head a little, and giving Finn’s tray a little push. Noah led us to a table on the far side against windows overlooking the North lawn and residence halls. The Café wasn’t very full, as it was still fairly early. We sat down and spread out our trays and set to eating.

I decided that eating a burger in front of Noah was right up there with trying to manage spaghetti. Only dogs in cartoons looked good eating spaghetti. Ditto with hamburgers. Eating a hamburger wasn’t sexy, but I also feared that using a fork and knife would be ridiculous. I sighed internally. Who cared about sexy?
Friends didn’t worry about being sexy
, I lectured myself. I ate my hamburger and made liberal use of my napkin.

“How are your cheesy tamales?” I asked Finn.

“Terrible,” he admitted with a chagrined smile. “But probably more flavorful than the cardboard Jackson’s eating right now.”

“Jackson’s insides are shriveling at the thought of eating your mystery plate,” Noah replied.

“Then stay away, because you really can’t handle more shriveling, or someone might mistake you for a girl.”

“Your sister had no complaints last night.”

“That would actually be an insult if I had a sister, but I’m not surprised your little brain couldn’t form a better insult. Small brain, small—” Finn wiggled his eyebrows.

The two continued to exchange insults, each more vile than the last.

Noah seemed in no hurry to leave after he’d eaten his food. He got another drink and returned, moving his chair so it was farther away from the table. The rearrangement of his chair put him closer to me, and he slung his arm across the back of my chair and stretched out his legs.

“I’m running on campus in the morning, want to have breakfast afterward?” he asked me.

Before I could answer, Finn interjected, “Did you know that Noah and Bo can run for 12 miles with packs weighing 150 pounds, while simultaneously doing jumping jacks and shooting guns, all before the sun rises?”

Finn must not know that Noah and I corresponded for four years while Noah was a deployed Marine.

“She knows,” Noah replied before I could respond. “Grace and I were, ah, friends, while I was deployed.”

“Oh, you from Texas too?” Finn asked.

“No. From Chicago. I wrote to Noah as part of a class project.”

Finn looked from Noah to me and back again. “What year are you?”

“Sophomore. And no, before you ask, I don’t have a major.”

“That makes you nineteen?” Finn hooted. “I think you are too old for her, old man.”

“Is that true?” Noah asked, looking at me. “Am I too old for you?”

“What?” I tried to laugh but it sound like a nervous giggle. “Of course you aren’t too old to be my friend.”

Noah made a noise like a hum at the back of his throat. I wished for Lana’s perception skills that were almost like a super power in my estimation. I would’ve given anything to know what that noise meant. Finn thankfully made no comment.

A guy I didn’t know came over and clapped Noah on the back of the shoulder hard enough that Noah almost spilled his drink on me. “Jackass,” I heard Noah say under his breath, and I swallowed a smile.

“Braaaa,” the guy brayed like a donkey. His shirt, emblazoned with three Greek letters, looked stylishly faded, and he wore loud plaid shorts and flip flops. Noah knocked the fraternity guy’s fist and received a slap on the upper arm in return. I wondered if learning to shorten every word to three letters was part of the secret rituals that took place on Greek Street during pledge week.

“Marco,” Noah replied in greeting.

“I hear you all are having a little get together on Friday to welcome back the ladies. Any chance of an invite?” Marco said.

“First I’ve heard of it,” Noah responded, a non-answer to Marco’s query.

“Let me know and I’ll help you tag the hot frosh buns.” He laughed at his own terrible joke and moved to sit down at the empty chair at our table. Noah must have thought that the guy would talk to us all evening if we stayed, so he stood up and said, “We’ve got to run. Nice seeing you, Marco.”

“Yeah, man, I will see you around campus.” Marco turned to Finn and added, “And Finnster, man, we will see you at your party.”

“Indeed,” Finn intoned and picked up his tray.

Noah grabbed our backpacks and slung them over his shoulders, so I picked up both trays and his cups and made toward the clean-up conveyor belt. I thought for a minute that Noah would fight me for them, but I raised an eyebrow at him and he backed away.

“You know,” I said to Noah, “I can carry my own books.”

“I’m sure you can,” came his laconic reply, “but why should you?”

I didn’t have a non-confrontational answer. I wondered if friends were invited to parties, but neither Finn nor Noah brought it up again. They walked me to my apartment, where Noah finally handed over my bag and said he’d see me in the morning.

Noah

“Could it have killed you to give us a minute of privacy?” I groused as we walked to campus parking, where I had left the truck.

“Yes, actually,” Finn replied. “After hearing from Bo how inept the great Noah Jackson is with this girl, I had to stick around.”

“I hope we put on a good show for you.”

“Nope. I kept waiting for you to put your big-ass foot in your mouth. Sadly, nothing,” Finn let out a loud belch.

“Goddamn, that reeks,” We stopped at the truck and I made Finn stand outside for a good minute before I unlocked the doors. “I told you not to eat anything that they smother in cheese at the dining hall,” I said after we had finally gotten into the cab.

Finn responded with another, smaller belch. I rolled down the windows.

“Are we having a party this weekend?” I asked Finn.

“Why not?”

“Just wondered when this was decided. But whatever, I’m on board.” I tapped my fingers absently against the steering wheel. Getting Grace in my own territory might be a good way to move our tentative dance from one between friends to more. I didn’t like the idea of her going to fraternity parties looking for something I could and wanted to provide. Whatever that was.

“Post-party hookups can be dangerous,” Finn warned.

“Sure, but I need to get her in my territory and away from campus.”

“Isolate your prey and lure her into your cave? Does that work?” Finn asked.

“We’ll see on Saturday night.”

Chapter Eight