Page 11 of Just My Type
We broke up.
I know there’s a whole lot more to what Hannah just told me, but those three words are the ones I latch onto.
“You broke up with your boyfriend?” I blurt out, with absolutely no tact at all. I would be disappointed in myself if the lack of tact wasn’t so predictable. I am who I am.
Hannah looks at me strangely. “Um, yeah?”
“When?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Like, a month ago, maybe? I’m surprised you didn’t know. Everyone else did.”
I think about the look Elliot and Jordan gave each other earlier tonight when I mentioned Hannah’s boyfriend, and I’m now sure that look was about the fact that Hannah does not, in fact, have a boyfriend, and they didn’t tell me because they thought it would be more fun not to.
Assholes. For sure there’s going to be some sort of payback for that, but for now, I have more important matters to attend to. I swing around so I’m facing Hannah, crossing my legs and resting my elbows on my knees. “How do you feel?”
She glances over at me and snorts out a laugh. “You look like a little kid waiting for story time.”
I grin at her because I’m suddenly thrilled with life. With Hannah and me and the fact that I’m sitting here with her in my favorite place at the very best time of the night and she brought the most perfect snack in the world, and she doesn’t have an asshole boyfriend anymore.
Everything is coming up Noah.
“I don’t want to know anything you don’t want to tell me. But if you do want to dish or, like, trash your ex or whatever, I’m your guy.”
She snickers. “Are you suggesting we have girl talk? Should we put on face masks and make girl dinner and talk about our favorite spicy romance novel scenes?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling because she has no idea how close to home the picture she paints actually is. “Let me tell you something. There is no guy in the world better at girl talk than I am, and I freaking love a face mask. Do you think I got skin this pretty by chance?” I wave a hand at my face and get a shot of warmth when she laughs. “And by the way, girl dinner is basically a charcuterie board, and I love those too. So many amazing snack choices, and all on one single plate. So, what do you think, Gorgeous? Want to dish?” I leave off the part about romance novels, and I’m hoping she doesn’t notice, because that’s one thing I’d rather keep on the down low for a while longer.
Hannah blows out a breath, turning to face me and crossing her legs too, her pose mirroring mine and her face going just a little serious. Our knees are almost touching, and between the dark and the silence of the city after midnight, it kind of feels like we’re the only people in the world. Like maybe, just for tonight, magic really does exist.
“I wouldn’t think I would need to trash my ex to you.” Her words are quiet, and even in the dark, I can see the flush that spreads across her face, like she didn’t mean to say that. Likeshe’s embarrassed that I saw what I saw, even though there’s no reason she should be.
Testing her, I run a single finger over the back of her hand and am entirely delighted when she doesn’t yank it away. “I’ll be honest, Han, I’m not that guy’s biggest fan. Not after the way I heard him talk to you. After the way I saw him put his hands on you. And I don’t think that’s the only time he did it. Am I right?”
Hannah’s face shutters at my reference to the day she showed up at my parents’ house with bruises circling her wrists. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
Her voice is jerky and just a touch panicked, her eyes looking everywhere but at me, the same way they did in the back hallway at the bar three years ago. I reach out, taking one of her hands in mine. “Hey.” I keep my voice deliberately soft, even though her sudden mood shift has my stomach clenching at the thought of what else that asshole might have done to her. “Look at me, Gorgeous.”
When she doesn’t, I put my free hand under her chin, lifting her head until her gaze meets mine. The haunted look in her eyes makes me want to put my fist directly through her ex-boyfriend’s face. But the uncharacteristic flash of violence is tempered by a rush of tenderness that makes me want to wrap Hannah up in my arms and tell her she’s brilliant and beautiful and safe right here with me. That as long as she’s with me, no one will ever touch her again.
With me.
I like the sound of it, but not now. Not yet.
“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me. And I know you have your sisters and Amelia to talk to, but if you ever do want to talk to someone else, you could talk to me. I was serious about that, and I’ll always keep your secrets.”
I can see the moment Hannah’s mask comes back. The choice she makes to unwind her hand from mine and cover her vulnerability with her habitual cloak of sass and sarcasm. I can’tsay I’m not the tiniest bit disappointed, but now that I’ve seen a little slice of the real Hannah Evans, it makes me even more determined to peel back her layers. I drop my hand from her chin and wait for what’s coming.
“Jesus, Noah, that little speech was real romance novel shit.”
She really has no idea. I grab another Oreo and reach around Hannah, reclaiming the peanut butter jar. “What can I say, Han? I’m a romantic kind of guy. Especially after midnight.”
I pop the Oreo in my mouth, and Hannah looks around the patio. “I think after midnight is my favorite time of the day.” Her voice has a contemplative tone, like this is the first time she’s realizing this thing about herself.
“Night owl?” I ask, grabbing her Sprite can and taking a sip through her Twizzler straw, and how fucking cute is that? I grin internally when she scowls at me. I love that scowl. I also like having my lips on the Twizzler, right where hers were. It’s entirely possible that I’ve moved past attraction and straight into obsession.
Life comes at you fast.
Hannah shrugs. “I never used to be. In college, I always scheduled the earliest classes I could because I worked best first thing in the morning, and that carried over into my working life too. After, like, three or four in the afternoon, I was basically useless.”
