I tapped the space over my ears, and he obliged, pushing the headphones off. "That was week three last season, right? Not the season before?"
His eyebrows curved in. "Last season."
I nodded. "I could tell."
Boom.
Noah didn't want to be interested. That was why his jaw snapped tight, and he closed his mouth after it popped open to ask me a question. But interested he was. That was why his eyes darted back and forth between me and the screen.
"How?"
I shuffled just a couple of inches closer, snatching the headphones from his head so I could turn them off. The sound popped up instantly, and I pointed a finger at the screen.
"Well, last season, their O-line was better, so their QB was able to hold onto the ball about a second and a half longer than the season before."
Noah's mouth sagged open before he snapped it shut. Inwardly, I pumped my fist in the air so violently, it would've been obnoxious.
"Then there's you," I said, letting my voice trail off.
His whole frame went still again, and I was starting to recognize it for what it was: a warning.
You know how the air feels before a tornado swoops down? Everywhere you look, there was a perfect, ominous stillness. Even the color of the sky was different, rosy and warm and pinkish yellow.
"What about me?" he asked, voice all low and grumbly and delicious. I felt that grumble in the soles of my feet, and it made my toes curl up in my shoes.
Deep breath in, deep breath out. "You changed the way you pivoted around the tackle to get to the quarterback. Before, you used to duck more, lower your body mass, which made it harder to move as fast because your momentum wasn't helping you." I pointed at the screen. "And see, right there, that's how I know it was last season. That's when you started spinning around them, like Freeney and Mathis used to do back in the early two thousands for Indy. You broke the single season sack record last year because of that change. You should have won defensive player of the year. I always thought you got robbed."
Noah's finger punched the screen, pausing the video. He took a second to breathe deeply, and I risked a glance at his face. He was staring at me with such an arrested intensity that I fought not to squirm away from the force of it.
"You—" He stopped, then shook his head as though I'd punched him.
What was it about him that was so entertaining when he was off-balance? Smiling at him, laughing at him, it would be the last thing he'd want from me, especially given his earlier mood. And even more surprising was that it wasn't hard to fight the impulse. I didn't want Noah to think I was laughing at how hard it was for him to adjust to this thing we were doing. I wasn't the one being filmed all the time.
"How do you know that?" he finally managed. "About Freeney and Mathis. You couldn't have been older than ..." He stopped to do some mental calculations.
"I was in middle school." I grinned. "Come on, Noah, my brother was a second-round draft pick the year I started kindergarten. What do you think I've been watching every Sunday my entire life?"
Behind the couch, Marty moved on silent feet, but Noah paid him no mind. All his attention was on me, and something about that unwavering focus raised all the little hairs on the back of my neck.
Maybe it was because I'd shocked him or maybe it was because he had to come to terms with the fact that he'd underestimated me, but Noah Griffin was staring at me like he was contemplating ways to devour me whole.
"You gonna tell me how I can improve now, Coach Ward? With your endless wealth of football knowledge." The edge to his voice wasn't unpleasant, not in the slightest, and it was taking me some time of my own to realize that I'd underestimated how mercurial his moods were.
If I could anticipate them, it might have felt less dangerous somehow, less like I was standing in the middle of a thunderstorm with a giant metal pole in my hand.
This time, because of that shift, I let my lips curl up in a smile. "Yoga."
"Yoga," he repeated.
"You're strong, and you're fast, but when you lose your balance, you lose the sack."
Noah sat back like I'd shoved him with both hands. "You're serious."
"As a heart attack."
"I work out for hours every day, Molly."
"I know, trust me." I let my eyes wander over the curves of his shoulders, down the vein that traced his biceps, the muscles bunching like I was touching them with the tips of my fingers. "But weights and strength training and the stuff you do in practice aren't the same thing as yoga, and I'd bet you a hundred bucks that if you practiced something like that regularly, it would help you."
His eyes sparked, and for the first time, I saw a teasing glint in those depths. It changed every aspect of his face, and it was hard not to want to curl my hand around his skin and feel the change for myself. "A hundred bucks? That's a steep bet."
I exhaled a laugh. "Not all of us have multi-million-dollar contracts, hotshot."
"Deal."
My eyes shot up. "What?"
"It's a deal." The edges of lips almost curled up, and I found myself holding my breath.
"You're going to go to yoga with me?"
"No," he said firmly. "But I can hire someone. Or if you send me something on YouTube. I'll try it at home where Kareem can't see me."
I bit down on my lip because the smile threatening was so big and so overwhelming that I felt my heart pinch. "Okay."
"Okay." He lifted his iPad. "Can I get back to work now?"
Chapter Twelve
Molly
"It's probably a really, really stupid idea."
"I couldn't say one way or the other."
No matter what my sister said, I knew it was as I us drove to Paige and Logan's house for our Tuesday night family dinner. But as I took the exit, I couldn't stop thinking about Noah sitting on that friggin' black couch, his legs too long and his frame too bulky for him to be comfortable. I thought about his fridge, full of boring food filled with vitamins and minerals and zero good carbs.
Good carbs like the bread kind of good carbs.
I thought about the fact that his telescope was being shipped from Miami, and how he never sat at the clear dining room table because he was always eating by himself.
"I'm just going to do it."
Isabel glanced at me from the passenger seat. "Molly, if you keep overanalyzing, I'll jump from this moving vehicle just so I don't have to listen. For the love of all things holy, make a decision."
My thumb punched the Bluetooth button on the steering wheel.
"Call Noah Griffin," I said.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Iz sighed and shook her head.
But there were no cameras to be found, and maybe it would be a good way for him to just ... relax. The phone rang and rang, and with each one that went unanswered, I felt even more resolute that he needed someone to step up and be in this role for him.
Noah needed a friend.
He needed someone who could see past whatever trappings were entailed in being The Machine.
After a prolonged beep, the disembodied voice of his phone told me to leave a message after the tone. I debated hanging up but didn't end the call when it came through the speakers.
"Noah, it's Molly. Umm, I know it's last minute, but if you ... if you're hungry, or bored, or whatever, we always do family dinner at my brother's house on Tuesdays. I mean, we do dinner. Sometimes non-family members show up too. Not often, but they do. Lia always brings her friend. I know it's not your family, but you're welcome all the same." I pinched my eyes shut. "You know where it is if you want to join us."
When the call ended, I blew out a disgusted breath.
"I can't imagine why he wouldn't want to come," Isabel mused.
"Screw you. Drive yourself next time."
"We live together, Molly. That's a gratuitous misuse of fuel." She wedged her sneakered feet up onto the dashboard before I knocked them down. "Hey, they're clean."
"So's my car. I'd like to
keep it that way."
"Don't you think Logan would have an issue with one of his players showing up unannounced?"
That made me sigh. "Probably."
"Yet here we are. For all you know, Noah's going to show up like a grumpy lost puppy on the front porch in twenty minutes."
As I glanced in the rearview mirror, I caught my gaze, feverish and bright with excitement.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
"No, I don't think he will," I admitted. "Yesterday was better, though. Sort of. One minor snag, but it's understandable that it would take him time to adjust. I know I'd feel off-balance in his position."
"And how do you feel in your position?" she asked pointedly.
"I don't know, Isabel. I think this is a really weird job, and it's putting me in a strange position because no matter what I do, Noah could still wake up tomorrow and decide to quit."
She pointed a finger at me. "That is highly unlikely, and you know it as well as I do. These guys are so freaking competitive. They can't play Scrabble without it hitting Super Bowl level of intensity."
I laughed. "Remember when Logan flipped the board because he thought we were cheating?"
"I sure do."
"Okay fine," I conceded. "He won't quit. But Amazon could decide he's not worth the film they're wasting on him. I don't know whether Beatrice would be upset at me about that or not. I don't know her well enough."
She sighed. "Wouldn't it be nice if we could read our bosses’ mind?"
The way she said it had me looking at her twice. "What's wrong with Amy?"
Even though I'd just pulled the car into the driveway, neither of us made a move to leave. Isabel unhooked her seat belt and shrugged as she thought about the longtime owner of the gym she managed. "Nothing that I can pinpoint, per se. But she seems ... scattered. Like she's not as present when she is there. In some ways, it's fine because she's definitely not micromanaging me, but our membership is dipping more than usual, and I don't feel like I can put that onto her plate."
I hummed. "Well, maybe it's just a phase. Everyone goes through them."
"True. And maybe Noah is in a grumpy loner phase, which is not your responsibility to fix." Her eyes, just as blue as mine, stared unblinkingly in my direction.
"I know," I said on a groan. "I know it's not mine to fix."
"Just remember that when that alpha asshole thing turns out to be some emotional wound that you desperately want to take care of." At my eye roll, she clucked her tongue. "Don't even deny it. Women go stupid over that bullshit, when, in reality"—she punched a finger in the air—"they should take their asses to therapy."
"Didn't you think therapy was a waste of time?"
"Yes, but I'm not the one taking on the responsibility of someone else's happiness." She laid a hand on her chest. "I happen to think if Noah is bored and lonely on his too-small couch, then he should take his millions of dollars and buy a dog and a new couch. He doesn't need you to kiss his boo-boos."
A sister's logic was so wildly ill-timed, pretty much at any given moment. I was about to tell her what she could do with her opinion when Lia knocked on the driver's side window.
I rolled it down.
Lia grinned in at us. "What are we doing?"
"We are about to come inside," Isabel said. "Because we have nothing more worthwhile to do with our time than to eat a family dinner and focus on our own issues."
Lia's pretty face scrunched in confusion. "A little heavy on the subtext, are we? I feel like I'm missing something."
Because that was not something I felt like getting into, I waved at Claire and Finn, Lia’s best friend, who were hanging back while Lia leaned next to my car. Finn, tall and lanky and the kind of nerdy cute that always made me hope that he and Lia would hook up, waved back.
"Gawd, when are you two gonna do it already?" Isabel muttered.
Lia's face blazed red. "He is my friend," she whispered, just shy of a hiss.
I grinned. "He got bigger over the summer," I mused. "Didn't he, Iz?"
"Someone's working their arms, that's for sure."
Lia's face stayed even, which was annoying, because if you lost the ability to bait your little sister, were you even living your life right?
"I'm hungry," Claire yelled from the driveway. "Can we go in, please?"
"Oh, did your legs stop working when you got out of the car? No one is making you wait," Lia said over her shoulder. Finn tucked his hands in his pockets, but I saw his cheeks lift in a wide grin.
Isabel ignored the exchange between the twins. "He's got that Clark Kent thing going that I am not mad at."
"Don't think I won't make you suffer if he hears you say that."
I dropped my head in my hands. Probably good Noah didn't come. The front door of the house opened, and Emmett whooped loudly.
"Hey, Finn! I saved you a seat by me! We can almost beat the girls in numbers now!"
Isabel climbed out as Lia, Claire, and Finn made their way to the door. I took a second to watch them shuffle into the house. Chaos was so ingrained into the normal ebb and flow of my life in various ways. It was hard for me to understand it any other way.
Even the apartment I shared with Iz, small and cute and tucked in an affordably safe building downtown, was never quiet. We always had music playing, the TV on, or an audiobook going while I cooked. If we were home more, we probably would've had a dog or two that I could take on walks and snuggle on the couch with.
Maybe that was why thinking about Noah made me sad for him, causing a slow, unfurling ache in my chest that I wanted to rub at until it went away.
I didn't want him to be sitting alone in the dark, and it wasn't because I wanted to heal any emotional wounds.
Liar, a voice in the back of my head whispered.
I didn't want that man sitting alone in the dark because I liked him, and there was no earthly reason I should've. He was snappish and grumpy. His moods shifted faster than the weather, and for some reason, he refused to acknowledge that there was another side to him than The Machine.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
This was my curse, apparently. Something that made me good at my job when my own feelings weren't on the line, but horribly inconvenient when they were. Without trying all that hard, I had a sixth sense that jangled like a bell when it came to the people I was forming relationships with.
Noah needed warmth and laughter. He needed someplace where he didn't need to be perfect all the time. Where he could just be Noah.
My phone, still connected to the Bluetooth, rang loudly through my car's speaker, and I took a deep breath when I saw Beatrice's name flash across the screen.
"This is Molly," I said.
"Molly, it's Beatrice." Wasn't it fun when we all started our calls like we didn't have caller ID? "Sorry I'm calling at dinnertime. Do you have a minute?"
"Sure, go ahead." Paige opened the door and held up her hands questioningly. I held up my finger, then pulled my hand to my ear to signal a phone call. She nodded and went back into the house.
"I just got off the phone with Rick. He's on his way back from Tampa."
My fingers tightened in my lap. "Yeah, he told me he plans on being there for filming tomorrow. We've got everything set up for a defense only practice and some stuff in the weight room."
She hummed. "Yes, he told me that as well."
Something about her voice pricked uncomfortably. "Did something happen, Beatrice?"
"He's thrilled, you know, with how it's going with Noah."
"That's ... good. Right?"
She kept talking as if I hadn't said anything. "Marty sent him footage from Noah's apartment last night, raving about your ability to draw him out. Get him to lower his guard."
I rubbed my lips together and fought the irrational impulse to flee the car. "We were just talking about football. I didn't do anything special."
"Molly, I wish you’d been honest with me about knowing him."
My whole body went ice cold in an instant.
"Beatrice, I ..."
"Both Rick and Marty were thrilled that you had previous history with Noah." She paused meaningfully. "Not something I appreciated hearing from them as opposed to my own employee."
"I'm so sorry, Beatrice," I said in a rush. "I should have told you. I didn't know Noah was even coming to Washington when you offered me the promotion."
Because she couldn't see me, I leaned forward and dropped my head in my hands again.
"Is this going to be a problem?" she asked. "Your history with Griffin."
"No," I answered instantly.
The question was jarring to just about every part of my brain, like a cloth that was ripping off center away from the main seam. Whatever I was feeling toward Noah, I knew without a doubt it wouldn't be reciprocated. He had one relationship in his life, and that was football, and I'd do well to remember that.
What mattered was doing my job.
What mattered was keeping my eye trained on that, no matter what instincts he was pulling out from inside me.
"I know I'm being tough on you, Molly." Her tone had softened, which had my shoulders relaxing slightly and the nauseous tumbling of my stomach settling down just a little. "I'm only hard on the employees who I think have potential."
That had me sitting up. "Th-thank you, Beatrice. I kind of thought you gave me the promotion as a ... I don't know ... a test you expected me to fail."
"I'm not as awful as you think," she said wryly. "And if that were true, it's not a very good use of my budget, is it?"
"Probably not."
Would this be a problem? No matter how quickly I’d told her it wouldn’t be one, I still had to be honest with myself. It was Noah. And if I closed my eyes, I saw him as he'd stared at me the night before. That look that had singed me straight through. But that look could've meant a thousand different things. Maybe he was pissed that I noticed something he'd done poorly before he fixed it. Maybe he was impressed that I knew what the hell I was talking about.
"You don't have to worry about a thing," I told Beatrice firmly.
"No?"
Isabel was right. Noah's issues weren't my responsibility. I could do my job and still maintain a professional level of distance. Because if I couldn't, then what right did I have to feel frustration at Beatrice's reservations?
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