Page 13 of Snowballed

“Thank you so much.” I’m feeling worse and worse. It’s completely out of character for me to throw a hissy fit. Poor Noah. He’s never even been here before, and he doesn’t even know where home is. Although he looks like the kind of guy who would pull out a credit card and wave it at any problem. And I have all his stuff in the back of the Explorer. Well, he has his phone. He could call my mom and say what?Your daughter is insane, and I no longer want to live with you guys.

“Zee, I can hear you starting to hyperventilate,” Rocky says. “Calm yourself. We’ll find him.”

“My mother’s going to kill me!” I am going full-blown panic attack now. I’m going to run so I can cover more ground and try to calm down. “I’m hanging up now. Call me if you see him.”

I search everywhere, including two Starbucks, but I can’t find Noah. For one second, I consider going to the police, but that seems ridiculous. Losing a 22-year-old man isn’t the same as losing a child. I check in with Rocky, but she’s seen no trace of Noah.

Darn. Well, maybe I should just go home. He’ll call my mother eventually. But the idea of going home and having to explain everything is humiliating.

My phone vibrates. It’s my mother.

“Zoe.” Her voice is completely normal. “Noah Goodwin is here. When will you be home?”

He’s there? Now I have a zillion questions, but I keep them to myself. “I’m on my way.”

The drive from Burlington to Shelburne usually takes fifteen minutes, but I make it in ten. There’s a car in the driveway that I don’t recognize.

I burst into the kitchen. Everyone is talking, but they stop and look at me. Noah is there in all his pink magnificence. He looks surprisingly relaxed with a coffee and the peach bran muffins I baked in front of him.

Then I notice who is on the other side of him: Helen Hendriks. She’s looking at Noah like he’s more delicious than any muffin.

Helen is my teammate at Moo U. We’re not enemies, but we’re definitely not friends. The biggest reason is that we’re in constant competition for the last defense spot every game. And she’s usually the one who wins it. Unlike a superstar like Noah, I’m a bubble player who gets scratched a lot.

Now it seems like Helen is going to swoop in here and take over Noah too. Not that I thought for a moment that I would have a chance with him, but does Helen have to win all the time?

“Did you get everything done?” my mother asks me.

“Uh, yes?” My answer sounds like more of a question.

“Noah said you had things to do in Burlington. That’s why Helen gave him a ride here,” my mother adds.

Okay, he may be a huge grouch, but I’m extremely grateful to Noah for not throwing me under the bus. I smile at him, but he doesn’t respond. Oh right, his face is set in a permanent scowl. Maybe his first girlfriend told him he looked hotter when he frowned and now that’s his look.

“Thanks for driving,” I say to Helen. She doesn’t even bother looking at me because Noah is in the room. She’s wearing a short denim skirt and flowery top that is kind of see-through. Naturally Noah gets rescued by someone glamorous like Helen, and not a 60-year-old farmer.

“Not a problem. I recognized Noah the moment I saw him. The men’s hockey team is pretty excited to get you.” Then she flutters her heavily mascaraed lashes. The men’s team can’t be more excited than Helen about Noah’s arrival.

The man himself looks down modestly. Oh please, the last thing his ego needs is flattery. Now that I realize he’s okay, I’m still mad at him.

Helen is stuck on Team Compliment. “Your father is such a legendary hockey player. One of the toughest guys in the game. I’ve always tried to pattern my game after his.”

This is the biggest crock I’ve ever heard. Helen’s game is as tough as a toothless gerbil. My only comfort is that Noah is regarding her like something he needs to scrape off his shoe.

She continues to talk about hockey and the huge role that Noah is going to play. My mother fawns over him too, asking him questions about his family and offering him more coffee and muffins. If this is how most women treat him, it’s no wonder that he’s so arrogant.

Nobody talks to me. It feels like I interrupted an interesting conversation, and now I want to flee my own kitchen. “Well, I’m going to head out and do the early chores.”

Noah gets up too. “Better see what I’m in for.” His low voice has a slight California lilt, which makes me think of surf movies and stoners.

“And I should get back to my friends,” Helen says.

The three of us walk outside together. She turns to Noah. “You’ve got my number. Call me anytime you need a ride.” The way she emphasizes the word “ride” suggests no car will be involved.

Noah thanks her politely. Does he not understand that Helen is coming on to him, or is he ignoring her? The third possibility is so many women come on to him that he doesn’t even notice anymore. I’ve lived with Derek his whole life, but I can see that life with Noah will be different. Oh my goodness, will he bring girlfriends home? Because my bedroom is right next to his, and I do not want to be the audience to his conquests.

Helen lingers but finally realizes that grouchy Noah is not going to fulfil her sexual fantasies in our driveway and leaves.

My temper tantrum and ensuing panic attack have had one positive result: I’ve stopped babbling nonstop. Or maybe I’m getting used to his chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and ripped thighs. No, strike that, I will never get used to Noah’s gorgeousness.

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