Wonderwall

Chapter 3

The pic on the side is of Noah. I know I use this guy all the time but he's my favorite guy alive. 

Plus, he really fits my vision of Noah.

We showered and I changed into jeans and a t-shirt.

The party is at McCarthy's house.

I called a cab to his address and rang the bell. He opened the door.

Just now, he stares at me.

"You're wayyy early." He says.

"Oh..." I trail off.

He's so hot. I'm so attracted to him.

He's shirtless, wearing a pair of black and white plaid pajama pants. He's holding a white mug of something.

"Okay, what time is it then?" I ask awkwardly.

"It's not till six." He smiles. "It's three."

"Oh...shit, okay. I'll come back."

"Nah, you can stay." He shrugs, walking into the house.

Hesitating, I follow him.

He wanders into the house, upstairs.

He owns a huge townhouse.

How can he afford this?

"Your house is nice." I say.

"Thanks." He says. "How old are you again?"

"I'm twenty three." I say.

He nods.

"You said your name was Brecklyn?"

"Yeah. Call me Brooke."

He hesitates.

"What? No, I'm going to call you Brecklyn."

I sigh, shrugging.

"Alright."

"Do you know my name?" he asks.

"I know your last name."

"Noah." He says. "You told coach you didn't have parents." He says. "Everybody has parents."

"Well, obviously, yeah, but I've never met them. I was in foster homes my whole life."

"Most kids in foster homes are fucked up." He says.

I shrug.

"I hated my life. I grew up in random places in Florida. I hate Florida. I love New York. Anyways, I didn't want my situation to dictate my life, and I've loved baseball since I could walk. I kept perfect grades and had scholarships to Stanford. I had everything paid for down to my books. I'm just barely scraping by."

"Why aren't you a model?" he asks.

"A model?" I repeat.

"Yeah. I mean...you're...nevermind."

"No, I'm what?" I ask.

"Beautiful." He shrugs.

"But you guys hate me because I'm a girl on a baseball team?"

"Hated." He says. "But you're really good, so I don't hate you anymore."

I roll my eyes.

"What are we going to do for three hours?" I ask.