Speak (Witches & Warlocks Book 1) (3 page)

“You’re pretty good at that.”

I’d finished my beer and started a third and am totally wrapped up in trying to steady my footing and focus on the dartboard. I hadn’t heard anyone come up behind me.

I spin, eyes wide, mouth open, my hand still poised above my shoulder, ready to throw and release. I may have just staggered a little bit while the room catches up with me. Not drunk, but definitely on my way.

Shit.

And now someone’s here and they’re going to try and talk to me. I focus on who’s standing in front me. The air leaves my lungs in this awkward groaning sound. It’s not just any someone who’s going to try to talk to me. It’s a totally hot, well-built, blue eyes that match my own someone that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for the better part of two weeks.

Double shit.

You know it, and I know it, even though I’ll deny it if you say anything. I came here in the hopes of seeing him. I know I said otherwise, but I could have stopped at Panera and had a bagel if all I wanted was to surround myself with other people. I’d come to Flannigan’s to drink alone because I’d hoped, at least on some level, that I’d get to see Noah again.

And here he is, right in front of me, smiling that gorgeous smile, his blue eyes alight with something that looks like mischief. And here I am, mouth agape, eyes wide, a blush working up my neck from my chest, making my cheeks all hot. Oh, and I’m holding a dart like a weapon aimed right at the guy.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” Noah throws up his hands and chuckles and my senses go into overdrive. I swear I can see three of the four corners of the room and what I can’t see behind me, I can hear. I lower my hand and am aware of each and every angle my elbow makes as the dart leaves its position near my face and ends up down near my thigh.

The tiger nudges me. Say something. Speak.

My eyes hit the floor but I pull up a smile. “It’s ok. I’ll survive.”

Four words. Two sentences. Not that awkward of a pause between his words and mine. Not bad. I’m both thankful I’d had so much to drink and regret it all at the same time.

“You mind if I join you? I’m not so bad at darts myself.”

Yes!

No!

Stay with me!

Go away!

Noah speaks in a quiet voice. I can hear him perfectly well over the din of the bar – change dropped on a table, someone cursing, new song, clink of glasses near the pool table, three different sporting events on three different TV’s – yet his quiet voice neither overwhelms me nor makes me feel too quiet myself.

I put my drink on the table and the strangest thing happens. “You think you can just pop over here and interrupt my game just like that?”

I speak.

I spoke.

I said all those words.

My gaze was downcast, yet I maintained eye contact through my eyelashes.

Inside my head, the tiger paces in appreciation.

Outwardly, I blush a burning red from head to toe. I take a drink of my beer which continues to be the best idea and worst idea ever all wrapped up at once. Now he’s gonna get up and leave, certain I’m a stuck up bitch. It feels like I just fell from a high space and I’m tumbling head over heels over head over heels, just falling without end. Adrenaline racing. Hair streaming. Waiting for the fall to end and hoping it never will.

Noah smiles. “Yes,” he says in that perfect voice of his. “Yes, I do think I can just pop over here and interrupt your game. You’re craving my company whether you know it or not.” Oh, I know it. Believe me I know it.

It seems I’ve used up all my words so I smile and hand him the darts. He slides his hand out of his pockets to accept them and I can’t help but notice how well he wears his jeans. When he takes the dart from my hand, his fingers touch mine and just like the last time there’s another ping of energy and it’s like golden ripples undulate around our hands for the briefest of instances. My breath speeds from my parted lips and I catch his eyes, a question pursing my eyebrows together. His eyes are a minuet of blue upon blue and truly the same unique shade of my own. My senses settle down as if someone dimmed the lights and volume in the room and it’s just me and Noah in this little corner, undisturbed by the world around us.

“Wow,” I whisper. Oh, shit. I said that out loud. I swallow hard and my gaze darts to his face just in time to see the corner of his lip twitch into a smile.

“I agree, Zoe Tate. I agree.” His voice rumbles forth in that wonderfully strong, quiet way, a deep growl that makes me want to lean in closer. Which I do. And he smells good. I swear, I think I’m swooning. I’m not sure what that is really —
swooning
— but this must be it.

We take turns throwing the darts and he is actually really good. I’m used to dominating this game. Becca kinda sucks. But Noah? He’s giving me a run for my money and the challenge feels great. So does the company. Noah lets me be quiet, but he also asks me questions, leaning in, his warm smile lighting up his handsome face. It feels, I don’t know, it feels like he sees me, the real me, the quiet one with the tiger inside and he’s both patient enough not to force me to talk and eager to get me to talk all at the same time.

As we pass each other while changing who’s throwing, he touches me, little pings of golden contact on my arm, my shoulder, my lower back, once right at the base of my neck, between my shoulder blades. I’m sure he doesn’t know what he’s doing to me, those touches warming me and electrifying me and, yes, calming me. I’m sure he’s just flirting. (With me! Hot ass Noah is flirting with stupid old me!) But he’s more than welcome to keep flirting with me for as long as I keep his interest. The attention feels better than I’d imagined.

My dart smacks into the center of the board. Bull’s eye. The first from either of us that night, although Noah’s been really close a couple times. A broad smile breaks across my face. It feels like spring sun thawing the frozen ground. Like buds on trees and the first sign of new growth.

How do you like them apples? That’s the question that flits through my mind and really, it’d sound better out loud. Smile a little when I say it. How do you like them apples? Catch his eyes only to let my gaze hit the ground. I open my mouth.

“Ya. Those apples are good.”

What the hell did I just say?

My face goes blank and the red fires of embarrassment race up my chest and back to flame across my face. I didn’t ask Noah the cute, flirty little question I’d planned on asking. I’d
answered
the cute, flirty little question I’d planned on asking. Seriously, it’s like the needle’s been pulled off the record and the music ends in an awful scratching sound, leaving silence in its wake. My mouth falls open and Noah’s brow purses in confusion.

He cocks his head to the side a little, confused as all hell. “What did you say?”

I should just run away. Turn my ass around, run out of the bar and never look back. Becca and I will just have to find another place to hang out on the weekend.

“Did you just say the apples are good?” His voice sparkles with laughter. I don’t know why, but I don’t run. I explain.

“Ya.” I draw the word out, almost a sigh, and bite my lip. “I wanted to say ‘how do you like them apples?’ You know, after I hit the bull’s eye? But I asked the question in my head first, and instead of saying it to you, I answered the question.” I couldn’t have been able to drag my eyes from the floor if unicorns were dancing in his hair, sprinkling his nose with glitter.

“You asked a question in your head and you answered it out loud?” Noah’s gorgeous voice wraps itself up in his gorgeous face and races like a fourth of July sparkler around his gorgeous body. I’m so way out of my league it’s crazy. Whatever had me thinking someone like me could hang out with someone like him?

This whole night, I’d been actually kinda glad that Becca hadn’t been here. For the first time in like, ever, I was the center of attention and I actually liked it. Now? Right now I’m seriously missing her company as she’d know what to do, what to say and how to say it. I really hate being such a useless mess. I guess now I can finally stop spending my time daydreaming about Noah and all the things that might have happened if I’d been able to speak the night we met.

I can’t speak.

This is what happens when I do.

Chapter 4

Noah laughs and gives his head a little shake, a strange smile playing across his lips. “Zoe. You. Are adorable.” He says it just like that. Like three separate sentences. Each punctuated with a nod of his head.

All the breath leaves my lungs and little warm explosions of happy dance in front of my eyes. “Adorable?” I feel surprise playing across my face.

“Yep. Utterly adorable.”

I smile. Another real one. It just spreads across my mouth, tightening my cheeks, lightening the thunderstorm of worry in my head. I’m not sure what to say, so I don’t say anything. We finish our game with the perfect mix of silence and questions, little pings of contact going off between us and I am utterly in over my head. Fascinated. Mesmerized.

“You’re not at all like I imagined you’d be.” We’ve finished our game and are sitting at the table, Noah finishing his beer and me working on a water. The words were out of my mouth without permission. It’d been happening more and more frequently tonight, me saying what’s in my head without analyzing the sentence to death before letting it out.

“You’ve been imagining things about me?” Noah smiles devilishly and I blush a furious crimson.

“Maybe.” Droplets of water bead on my glass and pool on the table. I swipe a napkin around to gather the ring of condensation.

“What kind of things?” He leans in. The only thing in my field of vision is Noah. His face. His dark hair. His spectacular eyes.

“Uh-uh. Not sharing.” The tiger stretches languidly, pleased.

“I have ways of making you talk.” Noah sits back and arches an eyebrow. Somehow I don’t think he’s joking and somehow I kinda think he’s suggesting something intimate, and somehow I might just like where he’s going, even if he
is
being a little corny getting there.

I smile again. That’s all I’ve done all night. Smile and blush. Blush and smile. He must think I’m a moron. A yawn sneaks up on me and I cover my mouth with the back of my hand. “Excuse me,” I say when it’s over. “I’m not sure why I’m so sleepy.”

“Maybe because it’s after two in the morning?”

“You’re kidding!” I spin and look around me. Empty chairs. Empty pool table. Empty bar. The bartender is leaning back, arms crossed, scowling at us from across the room. I whip my gaze back to Noah. “I had no idea.”

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry.” It’s the first thing I can think to say. He must be exhausted and here I am monopolizing his time.

“Why?” The question is genuine. I see it in his eyes. “Don’t be. I stayed ‘cause I wanted to be here.”

Well, that feels good. Not gonna lie. Again I smile and duck my head. There was a song once. The lyrics were like ‘played a quick game of chess with the salt and pepper shakers.’ I totally get that. Can’t help but sing it every time I fidget like I’m doing now, lining everything up on the table, giving me an excuse to look everywhere but at Noah. His name echoes, filling my mind. Oh man. I’m totally infatuated with this guy.

That can’t be good.

Because I’m going to want to see him again.

The tiger arches an eyebrow and levels me with her mighty gaze. (Hey. It’s my imaginary tiger living inside me. If I say she can arch an eyebrow, she can arch an eyebrow. Don’t judge.) Anyway, the tiger reminds me that Noah has spent the whole night at my side on purpose. He’s smiled. He’s laughed. He’s touched me over and over and over and I swear it’s just like magic, those little pings of wonderful going off between us. He’s going to want to see me again, too. I think.

I take a breath and before I know it, I say exactly what’s on my mind. “I’m not ready to leave.”

Noah smiles a perfect smile. It’s intimate somehow. Like what I said touched him and this moment was made just for us. Me liking the way he makes me feel and him liking the way I make him feel. He leans in. “Me neither.” His look goes all conspiracy theory on me. “But I think the bartender might be ready to kill us.” I giggle. I’m not a giggler. I don’t usually giggle. At least, not on purpose. What the hell is happening to me? “Can I walk you to your car?”

“Oh. I walked here tonight.”

The playfulness leaps from Noah’s face. “You walked.” His words are a statement but his voice and face are a question. “Here. In this neighborhood.”

Oh, hell. He’s upset. The tiger leaps to her feet and starts pacing and I am suddenly very uncomfortable. “Ya. It’s not that long of a walk. And it’s safe enough. I never have any trouble.”

“Zoe.” He’s this big ball of concern and judgement and I don’t know how to handle it. “This isn’t the safest of neighborhoods.”

I walk here all the time. I walk everywhere I can really. I’ve never felt nervous. No one looks at me. I might as well be a ghost. I mean, the further away from the college you go, I guess it does get kinda rough and I’ve heard stories of girls running into trouble with some of the frat boys. But I don’t go too far from the college and I’m not the kinda girl frat boys are looking to bother.

I don’t say any of that out loud. Instead I open and close my mouth a few times, wishing the words would hurtle whatever it is that’s suddenly blocking them. I must look like a dumb old fish gasping for air. My gaze darts from his eyes to the balls of napkin I’ve left on the table.

Noah sighs and reaches for my hands. “Let me drive you home.”

I blink away my surprise. I’d love more time with him. But… “I can’t waste any more of your time.” I finish my thought out loud.

“It’s not a problem or I wouldn’t have offered.” I’m distracted by the way the ping of golden contact has settled into a warm hum flowing from my hands, up my arms, and towards my heart. There’s almost a breeze, tickling my skin, rushing past my cheeks, and ever so softly whispering in my hair. What in the world is that?