Read If Only for Free Online Page B

everything at this point, I almost smile. I’ve known him for barely a heartbeat, but I can tell this is a quirk of his, a habit.
    But I’m not supposed to notice cute, quirky gestures of a guy I barely know who most definitely played me on the train since here he stands, with a girlfriend.
    “The bus,” I continue, getting back to the point. “From the train to campus. You weren’t on the bus. All students were on the bus.”
    “Oh.” He understands. “Hailey met me at the train. We took a taxi.”
    Noah runs a hand through his hair, avoiding my eyes. Good. Let him feel uncomfortable. And he said we . It’s confirmed. They are a we . It shouldn’t matter. The kiss meant nothing. It doesn’t matter.
    “Isn’t that sacrilege?” I ask, not masking the bite in my tone. “A pint of Guinness in a Scottish bar? Shouldn’t you hang with the locals?” Thankfully, I’ve regained the ability to speak like a human.
    “Does it help if I’m Irish? I can prove it. Last name’s Keating, or am I too much of a stereotype?” He can’t possibly be trying to flirt after all of this.
    “Just…don’t,” I say, rolling my eyes and pivoting back toward the loo.
    It was one kiss with a stranger, one spectacular, lovely kiss from someone I wasn’t sure I’d see again. But I did see him, with her, and logic loses out to irrational emotion.
    “What?” he asks, laughter infused with his inquiry. “You do think I’m a pathetic stereotype!” He puts his hand on my shoulder, and I flinch before turning back to face him.
    “No. That’s not it. I mean, yes. You are a pathetic stereotype, in so many ways, but that’s not it.” I can’t help but laugh a little, too, at the irony of it all. “Come on, Noah. It’s the train. The bar. The Hailey. And the name! Seriously? Keating?”
    Sam holds the secret of my mildly irrational preoccupation with a name from Dead Poets Society .
    “Brooks.” The sweet, deep rasp of his voice as he says my last name holds me prisoner. We face each other, mere inches between us. Despite his use of we meaning him and someone else, I can’t escape the pull of that one word, my name, and the aching way he says it.
    I close my eyes for a moment, severing the connection enough for me to speak.
    “Please. I’m humiliated enough as it is. Don’t say anything to make it worse, okay? You don’t need to worry. I won’t say anything.”
    He runs his free hand through his hair. “Brooks, no. I wasn’t going to… Humiliated? Shit. I need to explain.”
    But he never does. Hailey materializes again, all willowy and smiling and holding two snakebites. Noah stands there, wide-eyed and silent.
    “I figured you needed one, empty hands and all.” She presents the second beverage to me, and I groan out a “Thank you.” It’s going to be difficult not to like her. What’s not going to be difficult is getting the hell out of here.
    I raise my glass to the happy couple and cheer, “O Captain! My Captain!” slamming half the pint before finally walking the rest of the way to my destination.
    I’m sure they both think I’m slightly unhinged at this point, spouting Whitman’s epitaph for Lincoln, or, more than likely, they have no idea what I said at all but still think I’m bordering on loon. Maybe I am. I recognize the hypocrisy of my reaction after coming here with Griffin, but it doesn’t change the kick in my gut of meeting Hailey, the reason for his hesitation, for his guilt after we kissed. For our less-than-infinite-now in a tiny pocket of the train, I was mysterious and special. At the moment I’m just pathetic. I throw back the rest of the pint, ignoring the warnings pre-Scotland me would give on drinking too much too fast. This is the new Jordan Brooks, one year removed from the safety and monotony of her Midwestern life—maybe she drinks a little more and thinks a little less.
    I blame it on American boys.

Chapter Five
    Griffin leans in my doorway the next morning, arms crossed