Yeah, I know. It sounds creepy, but it's not really.
"Little Noah. My obsession is perfectly normal, right?" Yes, I named my dog after Noah Patrick. Nip for short.
Noah answered me with a bark.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and stared at the wallpaper picture of Noah. In the headshot, you couldn't help but focus on Noah's light eyes. They were light brown and gorgeous. The man on the porch—his eyes were dark and had huge circles underneath them. Noah Patrick always appeared ready to take on the world. The man on my steps needed a good night’s sleep.
My Noah, the man, not the dog, had shaggy brown hair. A chill ran up my spine as I thought about the sexy way he ran his fingers through it before putting on his helmet.
The guy I almost ran into had short, cropped hair.
Noah Patrick's six-foot-three and two hundred pound frame of solid and sexy lean muscle kept me warm at night … in my dreams. The man on my stoop slouched. Although his tall, lanky form had a presence, and he did have a cute little smile.
I shook my head and held Nip closer.
The other guy in the fancy suit said the name, Noah Patrick.
The two guys could have been talking about Noah. The tabloid sold millions of copies lately because of his story. Something about a former stripper turned model falsely accusing him of assault. One editorial article expounded, for four thousand words, on the connection between NFL athletes and violence against women. At the end, it used Noah’s case and mentioned an alleged pregnancy as proof. It sold big and further fueled the uproar people had against professional athletes. I didn't give the accusations much merit. I mean my Noah was a good guy, but he made bad decisions when it came to women.
Maybe Noah did need to meet someone who had never heard of him.
Of course, it would be different for us. I loved him despite his fame and money. I wanted him. I had an organic connection to him. I couldn't explain it, but my obsession with Noah Patrick was real.
Something about him being in my reality had my anxiety working overtime.
I dialed my dad's number. He answered after one ring.
"Hey, sweetie."
"Hi, Dad."
"How are you? You settling in okay?" Dad asked.
"Yeah, I'm good. Really good. Uhm, so Dad, Do you know who rented the other apartment?"
"No, sweetie, I don't, but he had references and paid for three months. Charlie handles the residential stuff. If you're concerned, you can come to the ranch."
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat.
"No, I'm not concerned. I was just curious."
"You have any problems or feel uncomfortable then let Charlie know. Okay?"
My parents were at our ranch in Texas for the rest of the winter. They spent most of the year at their apartment in Manhattan but always spent their winters in Texas. They were so backward. Nothing was more romantic than New York City in the wintertime.
I fantasized many times about taking long walks hand in hand with Noah. Sipping hot chocolate as we strolled across the bridge. Standing at the railings, with his arms wrapped around my waist as we stared at the New York skyline. I would turn my head and lay a soft kiss on his cheek or rub my lips across the stubble on his strong jaw. He would reach inside my jacket and squeeze me closer to him as he captured my lips with his and gave me a long, lingering kiss and—
"Callie James, are you listening to me."
"Uhm, yeah. Sorry. What was that?"
"Take care of yourself and use this time wisely. School will be starting before you know it."
"I will. I have to go. Kiss Mom for me."
I hung up, stood up, and tested my legs. I continued my walk, now anxious to get back. I guess there was only one way to find out if Noah Patrick was my new neighbor.
I would knock on his door and see for myself.
Three
Callie
I returned home an hour later. I snuck into my house like a burglar, peeking through the crack in the door before dashing down the hall to the entrance to my place. I almost closed the door on Nip. He yelped and scooted through.
He wagged his tail as I removed his leash and his sweater and made a beeline for his bed near the fireplace. He burrowed under his faux fur blanket, only his little nose and tongue peeking out from beneath the covers.
"I can' t help the cold, Noah." He yelped in response, but stayed buried.
I shed my own coat and sat down at my makeshift office at the kitchen table. My apartment had three bedrooms. I had turned one of those rooms into an office but preferred to work in the bright main room.
I powered on my computer and checked my email for any Google alerts about Noah being in New York. Nothing.
I did a search on the latest news about the allegations. The police dropped the charges after the girl recanted her story, but the damage had been done. Even though he did nothing wrong, the allegation hurt his reputation. With the state of the NFL these days, teams and vendors weren't taking any chances.
I checked out my latest blog entry about Noah and me touring our new Manhattan apartment. Now that he possibly lived on the other side of my house, the story gave me a sinking feeling. My fingers hovered over the delete button, but I couldn't do it.
I headed to bed instead.
Yip, Yip, Yip
"Noah, shh."
I pushed the covers off my head. I crawled out of bed, pulled my comforter around me, and scooted down the stairs.
"Okay. Noah, I'm coming." It's not weird to talk to your dog like he's person, is it?
I opened the door, and Nip slipped through the small opening and down the steps to the garden.
"Good morning."
I gasped and closed the door.
Oh, great. Now, he is going to think I'm crazy, whoever he is.
I opened it again but only far enough to speak through.
"You scared me," I said.
The man from the front porch leaned over the balcony but gazed back at me. He had on the same hooded sweatshirt, but with a ski cap pulled low over his ears.
"I'm sorry." He walked over to the railing between his porch and mine.
I closed the door to a crack.
"Cute dog."
"Thank you." I peered through the door. "What are you doing up so early?"
"It takes me a few days to get in lazy mode after the season," he said.
I shivered when he mentioned the season. To be safe, I played dumb.
"Season?"
"Yeah. I'm a football player."
"Oh, cool."
"Can you come out here? I feel weird talking to a door."
"Yeah, well, I wasn't expecting to see anyone this time of day, so I am not exactly dressed for a chat."
"No worries—"
Nip barked and growled, interrupting Noah.
"No—" Oh, shit. I couldn't call him Noah. "Noel." I whistled. "Come."
Nip stopped growling.
"Noel?" Noah asked.
"Uh, yeah. I got him for Christmas." That makes sense, right?
I sighed when I heard Nip's nails tapping on the wooden stairs. When I opened the door wide enough to let him in, I spotted Nip climbing up the wrong stairs.
He nipped at Noah's heels.
Noah bent over and picked him up. He nuzzled him near his chin.
Nip groaned and settled in his arms.
It was the cutest freaking thing I had ever seen.
"Hey, buddy. You cold?" Noah asked. "You want to throw something on, and I'll bring him to you."
Noah and my dog, Noah, disappeared in his apartment. I scooted toward my living room. I ditched the comforter and found a large sweatshirt and leggings in a pile of clothes on the dryer near the back door. I gathered my unruly hair into a ponytail and smoothed the edges down with my hand.
I checked my reflection in the mirror and groaned. Red blotches peppered my left cheek, so I slapped my right cheek to even out the color. I wore no makeup, and I hadn't showered since yesterday morning
.
The knock on my door startled me. I was so jumpy. This was it; the moment I've waited for my entire adult life and I looked like ... I shook my head and headed toward the door.
I opened the door and stared straight ahead ... into the broad chest of a man. He wore a blue t-shirt stretched across his pecs. He had removed his hoodie on his way to my place.
My gaze took a journey, not up but down. My brain on automatic spied his black leather high tops, his baggy, faded blue jeans, and the way his t-shirt gathered at his hips. His tan biceps flexed in the opening of his short sleeve shirt.
I stalled not wanting to confirm what I already knew. Every fiber of my being fired off signals at being so close to the man of my dreams.
Callie, this is getting awkward. Look at him.
I pushed my shoulders back, raised my head, blinked once, and gazed in his eyes.
Hi, gorgeous, coffee-colored eyes.
Noah Patrick.
I screamed and jumped up and down like a little girl. Thankfully, I kept my outburst on the inside. On the outside, I maintained a pillar of indifference.
"Hi."
"Hey," he said as his eyes narrowed.
I shifted from one foot to the other and leaned on the door studying his face. I should have seen it the moment I laid eyes on him.
The bags under his eyes weren't as pronounced as before. A good night sleep must have had something to do with that. His kind eyes were more pronounced under the light in the hallway. A little color had returned to his face, and I could see he’d recently had his hair cut by the way it stood up on end.
He was Noah—my Noah—and he was beautiful. Reality and fantasy collided and I held on to the door to ride out the wave of surrealism.
His eyes took their own inventory, checking me out.
Generally, I would shrink away from attention from the opposite sex, but something about the way Noah looked at me made me stand taller.
I licked my lips and smiled.
"Come in." I motioned like a flight attendant.
Nip settled, completely comfortable in Noah's arms. A burning sensation developed in my stomach but dissipated when Noah put him down and Nip pouted.
My heart raced, and I couldn't stop fidgeting. Noah's eyes captured mine; I gave him an awkward smile, and he smiled back. I couldn't breathe.
I had to stop looking at him. He made me forget to act like a human.
"You play football?" I asked as I walked over to the couch and flopped down on one end.
Noah followed and sat in the overstuffed chair across from me.
Nip jumped up on Noah's lap and settled in with his new friend.
I smirked and shook my head. "Which team?"
"What?" Noah asked and blushed.
"Which team do you play for?"
"San Diego Chargers." He studied me as he answered.
"What position?"
"Wide receiver." He scratched Nip behind the ears. "Not a sports fan?"
"Not really. If I have to choose a team, I cheer for the Cowboys."
"You're from Dallas."
"Yeah, I'm a homer." I grinned. "I grew up in Dallas, but my family moved to New York my junior year of high school."
"And they live here or lived here?" He pointed.
"No. They have a place in Manhattan." I stared down at his feet. "Where did you go to school?"
It sounded like an interrogation, but I feared if I stopped talking, the awkward silence would render me catatonic.
"Texas A&M."
"Oh, wow. We're supposed to hate each other, aren't we?" I twirled my hair.
"Why?" He asked.
I narrowed my eyes. I knew why, but maybe I wasn't supposed to know. I had to remember. You're not a fan. You’re not a fan.
It was college, though. Every Longhorn knew they were supposed to hate the Aggies.
"I'm a Longhorn." I said.
"Oh. Yeah," He nodded.
"I didn't really get into the whole school spirit thing." Stop talking about sports.
"Too cool for it?" He rubbed Nip's back.
Nip yawned.
"Yeah, well, I didn't graduate." I peeked behind me and spotted my laptop. "I dropped out after my freshman year."
It was on sleep mode. If it woke up, I would have a hard time denying I was a fan with a bare chested Noah Patrick sprawled across my computer screen.
"Okay." He dragged out the word as if not believing me.
"What?" I turned back to him.
"I don't know. You just don't seem the type to drop out of college."
"Don't come across too many lazy, irresponsible, spoiled college dropouts, do you?" I leaned forward.
"Now you're just messing with me." He scooted forward, cradling Nip in his arm.
He held my little guy like a football.
Nip loved the testosterone-filled attention.
I had to admit, so did I.
He peered at me as if waiting for a logical explanation.
I exhaled.
"I want to be a writer. Write about real-life experiences, but one semester of creative writing and I realized I HAD no life experiences. So I left school and have spent the last three years traveling the world."
I waited for Noah to offer his two cents on my life choice, but he nodded, rubbed Nip behind his ear, and answered me with a sigh of his own.
Four
Noah
The sad tone of her voice hit me in the chest. As if her life didn't quite work out the way she’d expected.
I could relate.
"What was your favorite place to visit?" I asked.
Her beautiful green eyes sparkled.
"Tokyo."
"I've never been." I sat back and relaxed in the chair looking around her place as she talked. It looked homey but not quite moved in. Stacked boxes filled the corners, and her flat screen sat on the floor.
"Oh, it's so cool. The people, the food, the city, the energy. It's like a refined version of New York City." She moved her hands when she talked.
"How long did you stay there?"
"Three months." She frowned. "I would have stayed longer, but my sister got married last year and she threatened to disown me if I didn't show up and do my maid of honor duties."
"You close to your sister?" I didn't mean to interview the girl, but I liked hearing her talk.
"Sort of. I mean we aren't those type of sisters who are like best friends, but we get along." She stood up and walked into the kitchen.
I check her out.
"You want coffee?"
"Yeah, sure. Black is fine."
Despite the oversized shirt, her small frame showed the right amount of curves. God, I loved women.
What happened to the no-women rule?
I shook my head.
"How about you?" she asked from the kitchen. "Do you have any brothers and sisters?"
"No," I answered but didn't elaborate. I had a brother, but he died a long time ago. It didn't bother me to talk about him, but I wanted to keep her smiling.
She came back, flashed me a quick smile as she handed me an oversized cup.
Her sleeve rolled up.
I grasped her wrist.
"Nice tattoo." I turned her wrist. It was the number eighty-nine in black block letters outlined in grey like you'd find on a football jersey. "What's the eighty-nine for?"
She paused for a second looked around and sitting down. Her eyes closed as she took a full sip of her coffee. A sexy sigh escaped her lips as she swallowed.
I took a sip of mine and waited.
She rubbed her wrist and pulled her sweatshirt sleeve down to cover it.
Like maybe I would forget I asked about it.
"If it's too personal, you don't have to answer." I shook my head.
"Oh, nothing like that. It's kind of silly, really," she took a quick sip.
"I promise not to laugh."
"Not that kind of silly." She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, crawled back on the couch, and tu
cked her knees underneath her. "My parents got married in nineteen eighty-nine, and I got it to remind myself of how true love can endure. They've been married twenty-six years and still going strong. I thought it was kind of romantic."
"That's cool."
"Are your parents still together?" I asked.
Her eyes averted as soon as she asked as if she already knew the answer. Or maybe she reacted to my change in mood at the mention of my mom.
"No, my mom died a few years ago," I whispered.
"Oh, God. I'm sorry." She sat her cup on the table.
"No, it's okay." I took another sip.
She instinctively pushed up her sleeves.
I caught a glimpse of her tattoo again and chuckled.
"If we are ever seen out together, people are going to think I tagged you."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Eighty-nine is my jersey number. I've been wearing it since high school," I said.
"Why did you pick that number?" she asked.
"It's the year I was born." She nodded as if she understood. Hell, I didn't know, maybe she did. She sat straight up on the couch; her eyes darted around.
I enjoyed talking to her. I enjoyed being around her. I enjoyed looking at her. She was hot and a pretty face, but she had depth.
I had the feeling if she knew who I was she wouldn't be impressed.
We sat in silence for a minute. She pulled the sweatshirt down again. Her shoulders slumped, and she seemed to fold herself into the couch as she looked around at anything but me.
After another minute had passed, I stood up.
She followed.
"Well, I need to unpack ..."
"Well, I hate to rush you off ..." we said in unison and laughed.
I headed toward the door.
"Thanks for the coffee," I said and put the cup down on the table.
"Uhm, can I have my dog back?" she asked.
I forgot the little guy sitting in the crook of my arm.
"Oh, yeah, sorry." I handed him over.
She kissed him on his nose and set him down.
"Maybe if you're not busy, we can hang out sometime?" I asked.
"Yeah, maybe." She reached for the door and stared down at the ground. "I'll see you around."
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