Page 22 of Echoes of Us

I sent it to him, jumped towards my closet, and considered changing. I regarded myself in the mirror. I wore sweatpants and a white T-shirt. It was casual, but it was okay. It wasn’t like we were going out. I looked at the shirtand raised an eyebrow at my reflection. I pulled it off and grabbed another one. It was a little older, more comfortable, and tighter around my shoulders. Was that too much? I pulled it off and put the other one on again. I shook my head at my reflection.

Noah knocked at my door an hour later. I’d worn the older shirt after going back and forth five times. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door. He smiled, holding up a few bags of chips. He was here, in my space, and suddenly, the room felt a little smaller, the air a little thicker.

“Hey, come in,” I said, moving aside to let him walk in.

He glanced around, taking it in.

“It’s not much,” I admitted, feeling self-conscious.

Noah wore a hoodie and jeans, his casual campus clothes, not his usual weekend getup. I kind of missed those. He always showed a lot more skin.

“It’s a dorm, Atty,” he said with a smile.

I closed the door behind him. He placed the chips on the bed and sat down.

“I ordered a pizza and got a six-pack,” I told him.

“How did you get a six-pack? Aren’t you eighteen?” he asked with a laugh.

I tilted my head. “They didn’t card me.”

“Of course, they don’t fucking card you,” he said, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ll have one, thanks.”

I bent down to get it and handed it to him. I thought about it for a second before opening one for myself. I sat on the floor by the bed, turning on the PlayStation and handing him a controller.

“Where are your supervisors?” he asked.

“Out,” I told him.

His smile grew slightly, but he didn’t say anything more. I couldn’t settle down.

“What do you want to play?” I asked.

He raised one shoulder casually. He unzipped his hoodie and kicked off his shoes. He was wearing that damn sleevelessshirt again, and I forced myself to look away. He laid on the bed, looking at the screen and drinking his beer.

“Whatever you usually play. Do you mind if I put music on?” he asked.

I shook my head. I set up the game while he synced his phone to my speakers. An upbeat song started to play through the room, breaking some of the tension.

An hour later, he was screaming at me, sitting cross-legged on the bed and jumping up and down. The awkwardness had definitely left the building.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? They’re shooting at me!” he said, shaking my shoulder.

“I’m trying to cover for you, but you keep running away like a maniac. Can you just stay still?” I told him.

He guffawed loudly and kept running. “It’s not working. Your plan isn’t working, Atty,” he accused.

I broke into a wide grin. “Because you’re not following it.” I pulled the controller from his hand, forcing him to stay still.

“Hey! Give that back.”

I let it fall on my lap and held him back with one arm while I played with my other hand, running towards him. “You’re on a timeout, Noah.”

He threw himself on me to get the controller, making me fall to the floor. I could still play with one hand while holding him back.

“Atty, they’re going to kill me,” he complained.

“No, I got it, I’m here,” I said, reaching him. I stopped holding him back and used both hands to keep playing and shooting at the players targeting him. I glanced at Noah, but he glared at me with a smirk. “Do something,” I told him, and he grabbed his controller.

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