“What are you smirking about, over there?""I'm more well-rounded than you.""Not possible. You're American," he said. "And if it is true, it's only because you like crap.”

“How did you get my number?" I blurted, before I could stop myself."It's called research." I could hear him smirking over the phone."Or stalking."Noah chuckled. "You're adorable when you're bitchy.""You're not," I said, but smiled despite myself.”

“You like me,” he finally said. “You like me, like me.” He was trying not to smile.“No. I hate you,” I said, hoping that saying it would make it so.“And yet, you draw me.” Noah was still smug, completely undeterred by my declaration.This was torture; worse somehow than what just happened, even though it was only the two of us. Or because it was only the two of us.“Why?” he asked.“Why what?” What could I say? Noah, despite you being an asshole, or maybe because of it, I’d like to rip off your clothes and have your babies. Don’t tell.”

“What are my options?""You could read obscure poetry while I play the triangle, I suppose. Or we can smother ourselves in peanut butter and howl at the moon. Use your imagination.""Fine,"I said. "You take my hand and back up toward the bed.""Excellent choice. What then?""You sit down, and pull me down with you.""Where are you?" he asked."You pull me onto your lap.""Where are your legs?""Around your waist.""Well," Noah said, his voice slightly rough. "This is getting interesting. So I'm on the edge of your bed. I'm holding you on my lap as you straddle me. My arms are around you, bracing you there so you don't fall. What am I wearing?"..."What do you usually wear to bed?" I asked.Noah said nothing. I opened my eyes to an arched brow and a devious grin.Oh my God."Close. Your. Eyes," he said. I did. "Now, where were we?""I was straddling you," I said."Right. And I'm wearing...""Drawstring pants.""Those are quite thin, you know."I'm aware...."Right," he said. "So what are you wearing?""I don't know. A space suit. Who cares?""I think this should be as vivid as possible," he said. "For you," he clarified, and I chuckled. "Eyes closed," he reminded me. "I'm going to have to institute a punishment for each time I have to tell you.""What did you have in mind?""Don't tempt me. Now, what are you wearing?""A hoodie and drawstring pants too, I guess.""Anything underneath?""I don't typically walk around without underwear.""Typically?""Only on special occasions.""Christ. I meant under your hoodie.""A tank top, I guess.""What color?""White tank. Black hoodie. Gray pants. I'm ready to move on now."I felt him nearer, his words close to my ear. "To the part where I lean back and pull you down with me?"Yes."Over me," he said.Fuck."The part where I tell you that I want to feel the softness of the curls at the nape of your neck? To know what your hipbone would feel like against my mouth?" he murmured against my skin. "To memorize the slope of your navel and the arch of your neck and the swell of your-”

“You told me I smelled - like bacon.""Well," he said evenly. "That's awkward.”

“I was warned about you, you know."And with that half-smile that wrecked me, Noah said, "But you're here anyway.”

“What do I sound like?" I asked, more breathily than I intended. God, so predictable.He considered his answer for a moment before he gave it. "Dissonant," he said finally."Meaning?"Another long pause. "Unstable."Hmm.He shook his head. "Not the way you're thinking," he said, the shadow of a smile on his lips. "In music, consonant chords are points of arrival. Rest. There's no tension," he tried to explain. "Most pop music hooks are consonant, which is why most people like them. They're catchy but interchangeable. Boring. Dissonant intervals, however, are full of tension," he said, holding my gaze. "You can't predict which way they're going to go. It makes limited people uncomfortable - frustrated, because they don't understand the point, and people hate what they don't understand. But the ones who get it," he said, lifting a hand to my face, "find it fascinating. Beautiful." He traced the shape of my mouth with his thumb. "Like you.”