Page 45 of Play On

My pulse quickens. I text him back:

Noah. You’re aware I live in a house with seventy-five rooms? You can stay with us. No different than you did last weekend.

Noah Darby is typing …

NO I WILL NOT. Violet. I want to date you. I can’t stay at your family’s house.

I stop walking and lean against a shop-front window so I can text easier:

Noah. Don’t be ridiculous. You are always welcome to stay at my house.

Noah Darby is typing …

That’s 1) Too weird with your parents and twin brother there, I don’t care how many rooms you have in that house. 2) I’ll have to be on my best behaviour because of #1, and when I’m with you, I don’t always want to be a gentleman.

Ooh! Forget my stomach tipping upside down. Now I feel nothing but hot after reading Noah’s sexy text.

I send him one last message before I start walking home:

Then we’re in agreement that I don’t always want you to be a gentleman, either, Noah Darby.

I grin wickedly. Let’s see how he answers.

Noah Darby is typing ….

I’m glad to see we agree on that.

Ooh!

I drop my phone back into my bag, otherwise there’s a good chance I’ll spend the next hour here on the street sending flirty texts to Noah, and begin walking home.

And I can’t help but hope that a certain shy footballer decides not to be a complete gentleman on our date tomorrow night, I think with a grin.

Chapter Twelve

Thai Chicken Soup

No, no, no, no.

No.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

I lie back on my pillow on Friday morning and test my throat again by swallowing.

Ouch.

My nose is stuffy. I’ve sneezed. Coughed.

And my throat hurts.

I’m so sick.

And there’s no way I’m having a date with Noah tonight.

Damn it, damn it, damn it! Why did I have to get sick TODAY? Of all the days in the year, why now?

I refuse to believe this is a sign that my relationship with Noah is doomed.

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