Out of My League

Chapter 22 (Noah)

Dinner was a success. 

I'd underestimated just how withdrawn I'd become after leaving my family behind, but the dinner, it seemed, had brought me back to life. 

I'm surprised at the feeling in the pit of my stomach when the evening draws to a close and Izzy and I have to leave - disappointment in its rawest form. 

It's nearly midnight, so the streets are empty as I pull my car onto the highway, reaching across the center console to lace my fingers through Izzy's. 

She smiles over at me and, after a moment, says, "I like them." 

"My family?" 

She nods, tiny sparkle in her eye, "They're sweet." 

"Mom, yes," I grin, "Dad and Asher are questionable on their best days." 

"Stop it," she grins, shoving me gently in the shoulder, but after a moment, her face falls and she asks, "Do you think they liked me?" 

"Do I think," I pretend to consider, pausing for a moment before continuing with, "Do I think that my parents, who have two, rough-housing boys, love the sweetest girl I've ever met? Hmm, let me just think-" 

"Noah, I'm being serious," she whines, but I can tell by the slight blush in her cheeks that she's pleased at my compliment, "Do you think they liked me? Even after the joke about my dad?" 

"That joke was gold," I reply, "And, yes, Bella, I do genuinely believe that they liked you." 

"Are you sure?" 

I raise her hand to my mouth, giving her a kiss on the back of it, "I'm sure." 

At the exit we need to take, I look over at her, flipping on my blinker, "What do you say? Hotel or my house?" 

She considers and then asks if I'm tired of her yet, a mischievous glint in her eyes. 

I playfully roll my eyes, answering her question by taking the turn that'll put us in my subdivision. 

Once inside the house, she pilfers another pair of my clothes, disappearing into the bathroom to change out of her dress before collapsing into my bed, burrowing under the covers before I have time to so much as think about going to sleep. 

Not that I mind, of course, because I'm pretty tired. 

When I take my spot in bed next to her, though, her eyes are wide open. 

I huff a laugh, "Not tired, huh?" 

"Not even a little bit. Can we talk instead?" 

"Of course," I turn onto my side, propping my head up with my arm, "What's on your mind?"

 At that question, her eyebrows bunch together and I realize that that probably wasn't the best question to lead with. 

"On second thought," I hurriedly spit out so as not to upset her, "Tell me about your first crush." 

"My first crush?" She giggles and I know, without being able to see her face in the dark, that she's blushing right now, "Why would you want to hear about that?" 

I shrug, but then realize she can't see me in the dark so I say aloud, "Why not?" 

"Are we talking celebrity crush or real crush?" 

"Mm," I consider, "I'll say real because I'm pretty certain I know who your first celebrity crush was." 

Her tiny, childlike giggles alerts me to the fact that I'm right.