B. Are You Gonna Be My Girl? / Noah POV

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I paced around the living room for the 10th time that hour. The first few times, I could use setting up for the party as an excuse. Now that everything had been set up, I had nothing to do and yet, I was antsy. Unable to settle down. Wired.

What the hell was this feeling?

"Someone's nervous," Hunter chimed, ploping himself on the couch with a huge grin.

I stared daggers at him. "Shut up."

What a stupid thing to say. Why would I be nervous? I'd already survived at least three of Tara's parties before. At this point, I was a pro.

"He's right, I've never seen you like this," Darren said, placing one hand on my shoulder and giving it a light, reassuring squeeze.

"It's disturbing," Hunter added, nodding for emphasis.

"Whatever," I muttered, shaking Darren's hand off my shoulder and walking toward the kitchen as the two of them continued mumbling more nonsense.

They were being assholes. I rubbed my hands against my jeans, taking a deep breath. It was just a freaking party.

Only that wasn't exactly the whole truth. She would be coming to this party. And for some reason that thought made my chest tighten.

Inna hummed as she placed food into bowls and on plates. I bit the bottom of my lips, debating on whether I should ask her. The guys would fuck with me, but Inna would be honest. Probably.

"Spit it out, Archer. I feel you burning a hole into my back and this is my favorite dress," Inna said, her voice light albeit slightly teasing.

Right. Just spit it out.

"Do I... look nervous?"

She turned around, her head slightly tilted as she looked me up and down. Her gaze was studied, clinical, as if I had asked her some complex science question. Then her face lit up and she nodded.

"Yeah, you actually do," she said, seemingly surprised.

I frowned, ready to ask her to elaborate when she continued. "You keep bouncing your leg and you're probably gonna rip those jeans if you keep rubbing the same spot. It's obvious."

Shit. She was right. There was no way I could deny this was atypical behavior. Nothing really made me nervous anymore. Not since Mom's diagnosis.

Once the worst unexpected thing possible happens, it kind of stops you from expecting anything anymore. Nerves kind of went hand in hand with expectations.

"Finally, the end of the Noah's Two Week Relationships era is upon us, babe." Brandon said, hugging Inna from behind and grinning up at me.

My eyebrows furrowed as I stared at them. They were right. I'd decided I was done with the two-week thing a week ago. But they couldn't possibly know that.

"I mean, you fell for Skyler, right? That's why you're nervous?" Inna asked cautiously when she saw the confusion on my face.

What a bunch of bullshit. Pure nonsense.

"I didn't fall for Sky–"

There was no way. I wasn't made for love. That was never part of the equation.

Did I like Skyler more than I initially expected I would? Yup, I did.

Did she make me feel like I could tell her anything? Yeah.

Did the thought of her first thing in the morning make me smile? Definitely.

Did I imagine kissing her many times already? Sure.

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