Page 28 of Academically Yours

NINE

Noelle

I wasn’t sure how I managed to drag myself to the library the next morning. All I knew is that I felt like utter crap. I was pretty sure the pounding migraine was my punishment for all of the shots I did the night before. I reached up to rub at my throbbing temples before taking another big gulp of water.

I wasn’t just embarrassed—I was mortified. When Hazel had knocked on my door in the morning, checking in on me and making sure I was okay, I just blinked at her. And then it all came rushing back. I groaned into the pillow for a long minute, before I reluctantly dragged myself into the shower to try and wash off the shame and humiliation of the night before, and ordered myself straight to the library so I could get work done before my night class.

But of course, despite all of that, I was still staring at a blank document on my laptop as I chewed on the top of a pen cap. I wanted to crawl back into bed and not come out for a week. No, a month. No—the rest of the school year. No—

“You look confused,” a strong voice called out, pulling me from the fog I had found myself in.

There, standing in front of me, peering down at the book in my hands, he stood. Matthew Harper, who saw me drunk off my ass last night. Great.

Not only that, but he had carried me into my room. Which meant two things. One: this beautiful, attractive man had seen my bedroom. And two: I had been in his arms.

Yeah, I couldn’t forget the fact that he had seen me at my most vulnerable and then had taken me all the way home either. No biggie. Or that Hazel saw all of it and gave me a look in the morning when she knocked on my door. Why had I never asked her what she was about to say at that mixer a few weeks ago? It suddenly popped into my mind now.

Was I still staring at him without saying anything? Oh—yeah.

He cleared his throat. “Hey, Noelle. How are you feeling?” He crouched down next to my chair.

“Hi, Professor Harper.”

“Please,” he insisted. “We’re friends now, aren’t we? You can call me Matthew.”

Oh—right. The other declaration I hadn’t even begun to unpack yet. Him saying—no, asking, if we were friends. I think I told him I’d like to be. I wanted to bury my hands in my face. Could this be any more mortifying?

“I…” I looked into his eyes—his beautiful, blue eyes—and then I blushed, remembering the way I had buried my face into his chest as he carried me. “Oh god, I’m so sorry about last night. I didn’t realize how much I had to drink, and I was completely inappropriate.”

“Noelle. Please, don’t worry about it. I was happy to help.”

“But I—”

He scowled at me, and I didn’t finish that thought, closing my mouth and mumbling, “Thank you,” under my breath as I awkwardly fumbled with the book in my lap.

“How much do you remember from last night?”

Everything, I wanted to say. How right it felt in your arms, most definitely.

“Not that much,” I said, timidly, before lowering my voice into a whisper. “Just… you almost got in a fight over me. I didn’t dream that up, did I? Oh, and I think I may have fallen asleep in your truck.” I winced. I wanted to apologize for it again, but I didn’t think he’d let me.

I didn’t mention how when I had woken up, I had been secure in his arms, almost sure I was dreaming. Or how I hoped that I hadn’t said out loud what I thought I’d said out loud. Either way, the damage was done. Despite all of that, despite everything he had seen, me drunk and freaked out, Matthew was still here, checking on me.

How did he know I was here, anyway?

“Are you checking up on me?” I asked with a raised eyebrow, “How did you know I was here?”

He chuckled. “Noelle. I’m not stalking you; I promise. One of my undergrad classes was in the library today so we could do research. I just happened to see you hard at work as I was heading out, and I figured I’d see how you were doing.” His hand moved like he was going to reach out towards me, but he didn’t, and I kept my hands in my lap, holding onto the book.

“Oh. Okay. Well, I’m all right. Feel free to continue on your way then,” I said, waving him away, thinking for some reason that he would actually leave.

He didn’t. Of course. Instead, he slid into the seat next to me, peering at my laptop screen. “What are you working on?” Matthew asked, looking closely like he was trying to read the words on my laptop screen. If there had been any—which there weren’t because I was still staring at a blank document— “You looked like you were spacing out. Is there anything I can help with?”

“You… you want to help me?” I asked, shocked even though it shouldn’t have surprised me.

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Why not? I don’t have anywhere to be for a while.”

“Okay then,” I said, surprising myself. I hardly ever asked for help, and normally wouldn’t accept it. But there was something about this man that I found myself wanting to say yes to. Why? I couldn’t explain it.