He swallows the food in his mouth and shrugs as I bring the fork up to my own mouth.

"Sort of," he murmurs. "He was studying but I wasn't. I just worked near the campus and used their bars to get cheaper booze. We met at a bar and-"

"Oh my God," I moan. "This... this is good," I point down to the pasta. He shifts in his seat and laughs lightly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to cut you off. This is good though. Really."

He bites down on his lip and I zero in on it, watching his neck move as he swallows. I look back to the TV quickly, shoving more pasta in my mouth. Down, Maddie.

Matt's friend. Matt's friend. Matt's friend.

Matt's best friend.

"Well," he smiles. "We met at a bar and that was that."

Matt didn't bring up Noah until they moved in together over a year ago, and even that was a fleeting mention in the family group chat. Mum had pushed, even Paul had questioned this apparent stranger Matt was adopting, but all my elusive brother would say is that he'd known Noah quite a while and they were good friends.

Mum asked, regularly. Matt never truly elaborated, hence the rumour that Noah didn't exist and was simply a figment of Matt's imagination.

His fork clatters against his bowl, drawing my attention back towards him.

The sharpness in his jaw is accentuated when he chews and I think again that Matthew has sent this person to test me because it's not humanly possible that one of his friends looks like this.

My brother never had hot friends. Not fancying his mates has always been a strong suit of mine since he was obsessed with math growing up and hung out with people who usually couldn't say two words to women.

His friends were jelly around me, and even if they did get the courage to say two words Matt's presence usually dissolved the attempt.

So if this is a test, I'm failing.

We sit and watch TV in relative silence for a little while then and once I've finished the pasta I find my eyes drooping a little more.

I glance over at him, watching the muscles in his arms move as he leans to put his bowl on the table in front of us. Staring is definitely going to become a problem in this household.

"Thanks again for dinner," I tell him, just to watch that killer smile appear across his lips again.

"It's not often I get to cook for a pretty girl," he drawls, and it's so obviously a line that it shouldn't affect me, but I feel my cheeks blaze once more.

Matt's friends in high school certainly didn't have lines like that.

He collects our dishes and takes them back to the kitchen, flicking the light on and beginning to fill up the sink. He does the dishes too - of course he does.

"Did you manage to get through to your estate agent? Matt said they're useless."

"I left them an out of hours message," I tell him mindlessly. "Honestly, they never fix anything in that flat. I don't know why I bother reporting issues with it."

We make small talk about houses and apartments as I watch TV and he does the dishes, until I hear a clatter and a muted, "fuck," hiss from his mouth.

It's obvious he's hurt himself. Like a real life Disney princess, I jump up from the couch to run to his aid. I don't let a beat pass by us, ignoring the cold biting at my legs as I jog over to him.

"Are you okay?" The words fall from my lips but I can already see the blood pooling along the palm of his hand. "Oh - ah, uh..." I fumble, glancing in every which direction to see what we could put on it.

Blood isn't my strong suit. It's not like it makes me pass out or anything, but I've never actively sought it out in an emergency situation. Usually I leave the fixing up to everyone else and fade away from the scene, though apparently I will now use any excuse to get within two feet of Noah Laurier, even if that means mending a bloody hand.

My gaze settles on a teatowel tucked into the oven door and I pull it out, grabbing his wrist to begin wrapping the fabric around the injured hand.

He sucks in a breath and I feel a smile at my lips, ready to tease him.

"I think it's possibly life-threatening."

"Oh piss off," he laughs, watching me press the towel down.

I feel his eyes on me then and look into them briefly before continuing to dress his hand.

The cold air continues to brush against my bare legs. I become suddenly all-too-aware that I'm wearing my pajama shorts and a tank top that's probably a size too small for my body. Too much skin for a first time introduction. Too much skin for meeting one of your brothers friends, full stop.

Part of me wants him to look - the part of me that's burning inside and begging him to perform some sort of routinely MOT on my body.

Shaking my head does not dispel the thought.

Trying to ignore my own brain, I pull him over to the tap and take the teatowel off, guiding his hand under the water once it warms up a little. The blood begins washing away.

My eyes travel up to his wrist, where yet more tattoos little his skin.

"So you're like - really into tattoos then?"

"Uh..." I meet his eyes, and they flick up to my face. "Yeah. I started getting them when I was sixteen and I just haven't stopped since."

"And you're twenty-three now, like Matt?"

"Twenty-four," he corrects. I begin wrapping his hand up again after inspecting the cut running across it. "You aren't required to nurse me back to good health, you know, as much as I'm appreciating it."

I look up at his face through my lashes, threading the end of the towel through two of his fingers. They bend towards my hand.

"Do you want me to kiss it better?" I murmur.

I feel my own heart beat out of my chest as I realise the words that have left my mouth.

Oh shit. Oh shit.

My head jolts up to look for his reaction and in doing so I pull on his arm and make him stumble. So, inevitably, like a demon has arranged for my worst nightmares to align, I headbutt his chin.

There's a moment of panic where my limbs don't quite know what to do with themselves and my own thoughts are pouring out onto the tiled floor beneath us, but I reach out to steady him after the accidental assault.

I then reach up towards his face.

My eyes follow my own hand as if something else is moving it. It doesn't feel like a movement I'm doing. Certainly isn't something I should be doing. But there it goes, my own hand, cupping the left side of his jaw.

Noah's eyes widen. His bleeding hand is gripping the counter, still covered in the faux wrap I'd made.

"I'm sorry," I spit out in panic, feeling how hard his jaw is beneath my touch. I feel part of his neck move as he swallows and press my legs together. His head drops down to watch me do it. Somehow his eyes are wider when he looks back up. "I'm just going to stop touching you now."

"Alright," he breathes.

I put my hands awkwardly to my sides, firmly holding my pajama shirt so I don't touch his skin again.

Firmly holding because I can't trust my own body not to do something stupid around this man I met not even two hours ago.

"I'm going to go back over there." I point to the couch.

"Alright," he states, in the same breathy way.

I walk away from him in a daze and drop down into my previous seat, daring to look back at him again only to find him already staring at me. I quickly pull a blanket over myself and look back at the TV.

This is going to be a long few weeks.

I'm a puddle on the couch, burning with the feel of his eyes on the side of my face.

Matt's going to hit the roof the second he see's the jelly I turn into around his friend.

All I can think about as I force myself to keep my eyes on the screen is the feel of his jaw beneath my hand, and it takes everything in me not to look back at him.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Author's Note

Aaaanddddd we're off!

First impressions of Noah and Maddie?

Press the star if you enjoyed <3