Page 23 of Snowballed

“Yes, Mom.” He gazes out the window, undoubtedly wishing he were anywhere else.

I can tell that I still irritate Noah even though I’ve finished my motor-mouth phase. What if he starts looking for another place to live? I need him to stay on the farm and help.

“How can I stop bugging you?” I ask in desperation.

“What?” asks the Master of Monosyllabic Answers.

“I want you to enjoy your stay on the farm. We really need you. So, if I’m doing something that bothers you, tell me.”

There’s another long silence as he considers this. “Stop being so nice. Just talk to me like you would to your brother.”

That’s actually a big ask. I love him, but my brother is lazy and immature. And he’s definitely not a smoldering hunk of gorgeousness.

“I don’t think you want that. Half the time, I’m telling him to get his lazy butt off the couch and get to work.”

Finally a hint of a smile appears on Noah’s granite face. “That’s exactly what I want. When people are too nice, I wonder what their ulterior motives are.”

Since my ulterior motive is getting him to stay on the farm, that hits a little too close to home.

“Sure, I’ll try. But you’re nothing like my brother. As you must know from practice.”

Both our coaches gave us summer training programs, but as far as I can tell, Derek only did his for the first week of summer. I look sideways at the biceps which strain even Noah’s oversized sweatshirt. He did all his training and then some.

I park in the student lot and turn to Noah. “Okay, jerk-face, don’t forget to message me and let me know when you’re done so we can meet up to go home.”

His eyes widen in surprise, and then he actually laughs. For a moment, that sweet boyish Noah reappears.

Then he snaps back to grim robot Noah. “That’s more like it. And I’ll message you.”

My day goes pretty well. I have practice in the morning and classes after that. Noah does remember to text me, so he’s already one step ahead of Derek. Practice is the last thing he has today, so I head to the rink to wait. Rocky tags along.

“I can’t wait to see this guy in the flesh,” she says.

“That sounds like you’re going to see him naked,” I scoff.

“Have you? Because based on those photos, I would be trying to catch a peep.”

While it would be easy to step out of my room at the exact moment when Noah exits the bathroom from his shower, I haven’t done this. It would be an invasion of what little privacy he has, and given how much he complains about the cold, I suspect he’s a never-nude.

“Not interested,” I say, but my fingers are crossed behind my back. Maybe he’s a jerk, but he is undeniably hot.

When we get there, Helen is already watching the men’s practice in the stands. Since she’s alone, it would be rude not to join her.

“What are you doing here?” I ask her.

“Same thing you are. Checking out Noah Goodwin.”

“I don’t have to check him out, I live with him.”

Helen turns to me. “I need to understand the exact sequence of events that caused this.”

“We advertised for a boarder, and he answered.” I’m not going to tell her that it’s about money, because Helen would be the first in line to offer Noah free room and board with zero farm work. He’d have to be her boyfriend though, which to me is harder work than mucking out the pigsty.

“Does he have a girlfriend?” she asks.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” I reply.

My snarkiness frees me to watch the practice in silence. Noah executes a perfect pass to a forward flying into the offensive zone.

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