Page 20 of Numbers Boy
Noah
FINISHING ONE LASTsweep of the apartment after buzzing Steve into the building, I hope everything looks neat, but I also know that I’m overthinking it. Steve isn’t going to mind that there’s dog hair on my boots. Or that the pictures I have up on the fridge aren’t perfectly straight. All that matters is we found a time to hang out. My phone beeps from on the counter, and I whirl around to check it.
Blake: Take a breath, it’s going to be fine
Me: How did you know?
Blake: I know you and I know you’re excited to hang out with this guy without the excuse of a canine to get you there
Blake: Just relax and be yourself. He’s liked you so far
He’s right. I know he’s right. It’s just…
Me: He’s so great though
Blake: And because he’s so great, he’s not going to judge you whether our DVD shelf has dust or not
Oh, shit, does our DVD shelf have dust on it?
A knock at the door stops me from checking, and I hurry to answer it.
Standing in the hallway is Steve, bundled up against the cold with rosy cheeks highlighting his freckles and adorable green earmuffs that bring out his eyes, which are rimmed with long dark lashes. His lips are plush and shiny, barely visible overa green-and-pink plaid scarf that’s wrapped around his neck. I can’t wait until I finally get my lips on his.
“Hi,” he says, those enticing pink lips curling with a smirk. “Can I come in?”
And that’s when I realize I’ve just been standing here staring at him. I give myself a mental shake and take a step back.
“Yeah, of course. Hi. I can take your coat, and boots can just go with the rest of the shoes on the rug.”
“Thanks!” Steve hands me his coat, and I can’t help but take a few seconds to enjoy what he’s wearing today. His baby blue thermal shirt clings to him like a second skin, highlighting his slender figure, and his dark-wash wide-legged jeans sit lower on his hips and emphasize how long his legs are. He strikes a pose when he sees me watching him again and giggles. “See something you like?”
“Always,” I admit, smiling at his easy confidence. It’s much better than when he questioned his attractiveness the other morning. Speaking of which, it looks like he’s wearing less makeup today. Like I told him then, he’s gorgeous either way.
“Me too.” He winks and plants a kiss on my cheek before going further into the apartment, bypassing the couch and heading toward the half wall that separates the space from the kitchen. My cheek heats where his lips were a second before, and I can feel a slow smile split my face. I love this flirty side of him, and the fact that he initiated that contact feels like a huge win. Up until now, I’ve always been the one to pull him in for a hug or stand close enough that we can touch. Each time, Steve has eagerly returned the gestures, but I’ve been hoping it’s not just because he’s too sweet to refuse. This reassures me that it’s more an issue of him feeling ready to ask for more. “Now, you said something in our texts about snacks?”
“Yeah, what are you in the mood for?” I follow after him, tearing my thoughts away from touching Steve and thinkinginstead about what all is in the cupboards. “We’ve got popcorn and chips, otherwise I think there might be some pizza rolls left from when the girls were here for a sleepover last.”
Steve leans back against the counter, legs stretched out in front of him, and groans, face crinkling in a repulsed expression that has no right to be as cute as it is. “No pizza rolls. Stu and I used to have them all the time, but once we made it to college, there was a night that included pizza rolls and way too much cheap tequila. Now I can’t even look at them when I go grocery shopping because, let me tell you, they taste so much better going down.” He shudders, and I bark a laugh.
“I get it. I can’t do cereal because one time I saw a spider on the table when I was eating breakfast, and then I blinked, and all of a sudden, it was gone. I’m sure it wasn’t in my bowl, but what if it was? Ever since then, it’s been easier to just make toast.”
Steve laughs, the sound lighting up the whole kitchen. “Good to know. Popcorn, then?”
“Popcorn it is.” I get out a giant bowl and a bag of microwave popcorn, setting it to pop. While we wait, we talk about what we want to watch. Neither of us is too picky, and I get the feeling whatever we put on won’t be getting most of our attention. As the microwave beeps, Steve grabs the bowl and dumps the popcorn in.
“Are you a candy-adding person or a plain popcorn person?” he asks, a gleam of hope in his eyes as he looks at me from under his long lashes.
I open the cupboard in front of him, stocked full of candy, and he gasps happily. “Pick your favorite.”
“Hell yeah!” He grabs two different kinds of chocolate and shakes some in. I reach out to take the bowl from him and let my fingers brush against his before pressing a kiss at the corner of his mouth.
“You’re adorable, Steve. Now, let’s go pretend to watch something.”
I lead us back into the living room and sit at one end of the sofa, curious to see if he’ll pick the spot right next to me or leave a bit of space. I grin when he doesn’t hesitate to sit right down, pressing our thighs together and stealing the popcorn bowl back. Taking the hint, I wrap one arm around his shoulders, and he immediately melts against my side. Yep, he’s definitely okay with the touching.
As he digs into the snack, we have a quick discussion about what to watch.
“Fair warning, most of what I watch is pretty nerdy,” Steve says, like he’s afraid that’s going to put me off. “I watchLord of the Ringsat least twice a year, and don’t get me started onDoctor WhoandSherlock. Although, I haven’t watched much of those recently.”
