Noah's smile is immediate when he sees the stuffed sheep on the side. He turns it so it's facing him in the kitchen and throws me a wink that turns my legs into jelly.
As Cam collapses onto the sofa next to me, whirring starts up from one of the appliances in the kitchen.
"I've got to say, I thought you'd eat a takeaway every night," I say, nudging him with my foot.
Cam chuckles at my honesty, flicking through the channels with the TV remote.
"We unofficially started taking turns ages ago," he explains. "I guess you're involved in the turns now too."
"I'm kind of a crappy cook," I admit.
"The stir fry thing was nice enough, just throw things in an appliance and hope for the best. I tend to go for the air fryer. Noah -" He begins to speak louder, emphasising Noah's name. "-tends to make me want to wife him up."
Noah's lips are raised at the edges when he turns to give Cam a pointed look.
"Where'd you learn to cook, Noah?" I ask.
"We survived on burnt oven food growing up. Mum can't cook for shit." Cam snorts.
I laugh too at Cam's confession, watching Noah carry a frying pan into the room, shoving around at whatever is in it with a wooden spoon. It already smells divine and he's only been in the kitchen a few minutes.
"My dad taught me," he tells me, still stirring. "I think he won my mother over through her stomach."
"His parents are still together," Cam announces without looking at me. "Isn't that sickening?"
"Gross," I chime, grinning up at Noah as he shakes his head at us both and returns the pan to the hob. A sizzling starts, and then I watch as he expertly begins chopping up a food wheel of vegetables on the island. "I bet you're an only child too, huh?"
"No sharing presents at Christmas for me," he sings.
Cam and I laugh. I turn back to the TV to see what he's decided we should watch, scowling at the bikini models running along the beach on the screen in slow motion.
It makes sense that Noah's parents are still together. He seems so sure of himself, so adult and put together despite only being twenty four. He's not got girls here every night, and I know he could pull them - easily. I'd be more surprised if girls didn't fall at his feet; he's gorgeous and sweet and his voice melts my ears like honey when he talks.
He's got a job, he's got mates, he's got a nice car - is there anything this man doesn't have? Is there a flaw in there somewhere?
He's even singing quietly again while he cooks, like he did the night I moved in.
I think if he took off his shirt and put on an apron instead, I'd have a breakdown.
Cam and I watch TV for a while as I continue straining to hear Noah sing to himself whilst things fry and sizzle and smell divine. It seems to take a while for the meal to be finished, but he's grinning as he sets the plates onto the island and calls us over.
Squish is leant up against an empty vase, half leaning to one side.
"Prime rib," Noah announces, pulling out my chair for me as Cam takes the seat opposite.
"This looks incredible," I tell him.
It does. It looks juicy and seared perfectly, a deep brown colour that appears about ready to fall off the bone. There's a dollop of mash next to it, and then a mound of mixed vegetables, all fried and golden looking too.
"This is more than usual, dude," Cam says, his eyes wide.
Noah takes the seat next to me, sliding in easily without his feet having to even leave the ground. Mine almost dangle, toes just about able to touch the floor, and I've always considered myself rather tall.
Noah grinds pepper over his food, grinning.
"I had to pull out all the stops to prove you weren't lying about my cooking," he says.
Cam genuinely, without blinking, asks Noah to marry him around the first mouthful of food.
The meat is tender and falls off the bone, the three of us don't even speak as we eat. I'm too engrossed in the flavour, and this man who can apparently serve up food that would probably cost us hundreds of pounds in a restaurant.
I'm the last one to finish the meal, Noah glancing at me as I swallow the final bite.
"That was insane," I tell him.
He grins, struggling slightly.
"I'm serious. I would die to eat that again," I note.
"All you've got to do is ask," he laughs.
Cam, instead of thanking him, just slaps his arm as he begins picking up all of our dishes. I don't think I've ever seen him voluntarily do the washing up.
A testament to how good the food was.
"Next time I'll make dessert too," he says.
I wish he was the dessert next time.
Cam moans behind us. I'm still looking at Noah as he smiles, crinkles appearing around his eyes as they glimmer under the bright kitchen light.
He looks away first.
I wish I'd met him first.
====================================================================
Later on, when our bellies are full and I'm showered and in my pajamas, letting my damp hair drip into the fabric of the couch, Cam and Noah decide we should all watch a movie together.
It feels familial when they sit either side of me, blankets all around us, lights down low and a bowl of fresh popcorn on the table.
"Mean Girls?" I laugh.
"This is the kind of shit girls love, right?" Cam asks.
He's ridiculous, but it's a good movie and I do enjoy it. So, I sit back, bumping against Noah's arm that's stretched out along the back of the sofa again.
Cam keeps leaning forward for popcorn, and he fawns over how hot Regina George is for at least ten minutes of the movie whilst Noah and I repeatedly shush him.
I lean into Cam's side halfway through the film and he cuddles me, asking if I'm tired. I shrug and he pushes me off him and towards Noah playfully.
I fall into his side instead, his musky scent almost making my eyes water, it's so strong. I briefly remember what it feels like to wear his hoodie that first time, when it smelt the most like him and hadn't faded away yet. I should really give that hoodie back, maybe swap it for another - feign ignorance.
"You're a dick," Noah jokes with Cam.
His arm falls from the back of the sofa and wraps around my shoulders, pulling me further into him casually, like my heart won't beat out of my chest if I'm pressed any closer to his t-shirt.
He squeezes me once before his arm loosens again. I desperately keep my wide eyes trained on the movie.
I can feel my pulse pounding in my neck.
The entire left half of my body tingles where it touches him.
I can hear his breathing. I can feel the heat coming from his body through his clothes. I could look up and see his throat move as he swallows.
There's a small shake in one of his breaths, and then his hand is gently touching the side of my head, pressing my cheek onto his chest so my head isn't hovering over him anymore.
"She doesn't even go here," Cam mimics in a high pitch. His voice makes me find a relaxing place in my mind, giggling at his impression.
"Oh, you thought he put this movie on for you?" Noah speaks quietly. His chest moves as he speaks and I turn my face into it, grinning.
I convince myself that this isn't weird. If it was, Cam would've pulled me away when he looked over at us for laughing at him, but instead he's just watching the movie again.
I'd be leaning on Cam in a similar way, if he hadn't pushed me off him.
But he did, and so this isn't weird.
Am I making it weird?
I try to focus again. Actively taking deep breaths, thinking about that delicious meal we had for dinner. My mind wonders about everything I have to do at work tomorrow and I use those thoughts to distract me from my position.
Before the film ends, Cam is snoring.
His head is lulled back against the sofa.
Noah has to be an asshole somewhere, deep down. There's no way he's not got one singular flaw lurking beneath that tattooed Zeus exterior.
"So your dad taught you to cook?" I ask him.
I feel him turn to look down at me and glance back at him. How do you still look good from this angle? It's unnerving to be around someone so attractive.
He hums, "Uh huh. He's a chef."
"At a restaurant?" I ask him, hearing his steady heartbeat.
"At a pub slash restaurant," he snorts. " But the food is good, and he enjoys the discount on beers after a shift."
"What about your mum?" I look up at him again.
He gives me a look, raising an eyebrow and pursing his lips.
"What's with all the questions?" His laugh isn't at all hostile, so I smile back at him from where my head is laying against his chest. "She's a mechanic too."
Cam coughs. We both pause until his snores resume.
"I'd ask, but I already know your mum and Jack are retired." he says. I turn back to the TV. The movie is towards the end now, lighting up the whole room. It's pitch black outside now.
I'll have to remember to draw the curtains before I go to bed.
"Do you like being in marketing?" Noah breaks the quiet. His eyes don't leave the TV and so, neither do mine. "You always seem a bit stressed after work."
His comment brings yet another smile to my lips.
It feels like I've done nothing but smile since I met him.
"I really enjoy it," I admit. "It's a bit stressful sometimes but it evens out when the campaigns are out and I've got my name silently stamped onto it somewhere. We haven't completely finished planning it yet but the Christmas campaign is going to be cool this year. We're stretching the budget to get a TV advert."
"That's sick." he replies with a chuckle.
My eyes roll at his limited answer. We both look at each other at the same time, grinning.
"What about you, car boy?" I wonder, looking up at his unruly curls.
"Car boy?" he questions it no further before he continues, because we both know it's obvious that he's in love with that BMW outside. "I love my job. I'm good at it and find it easy. I've enjoyed fixing up cars since I was a kid."
"Because of your mum?"
"Yeah," he smiles again. "She was always taking me to work with her when dad worked late. Eventually I picked up on what to do, and I started fixing them up faster than she could."
"That's really sweet." I say softly. "You're just a big softy really, aren't you?"
"Did you think I wouldn't be?" he chuckles.
The credits are playing on the TV now, Cam is still snoring next to us, but I don't lift my head from his chest, and he keeps me firmly tucked into his side.
"You look. . ." I try to choose my words carefully. "Like you could beat up an entire football team."
He snorts with a laugh, head tipping back on the sofa. His hand presses into my hip briefly.
"How so?" he challenges.
"You know," I breathe.
He looks down at me, eyes twinkling. There's a ghost of a smirk on his lips.
"Tell me anyway," he muses.
His face is close to mine again. His hair falls into his eyes, the tattoo covering his neck looking darker from this angle.
I will myself to keep my eyes on his, rather than exploring his face this close like I want to. I can already feel my cheeks heating up under his stare.
"You know. . ." my face burns, so I look down to his mouth to avoid keeping his gaze. His lips are full and plump. His tongue snakes over them. "The tattoos and your - size? The muscles - you're -" I clear my throat and look back up to his eyes.
They bore into mine again. His brows have a small crease between them, because he's mindfully furrowed them sometime during my stuttering, and I don't know if I imagine the way he licks his bottom lip again and swallows noticeably.
"I'm what?" he whispers.
Part of me wishes he would look away so I can draw a breath to stop my heart from beating out of my chest.
"You're. . ." i stutter. My mind is blank.
Fit. Hot. Beautiful. Sexy. Dreamy. Perfect.
Turning me on.
The room goes black and Cam jerks up.
I release a breath and pull away from Noah's hold. Cam's phone torch appears in my face, blinding me briefly.
"I think it's time for bed," he rasps. "The film was great."
"You were asleep for half of it," Noah groans. "Dick."
"Piss off." Cam hisses. He stands up, still shining his phone torch around as he stretches his legs and reaches over to draw the curtains closed. Noah stands up too. I sink into the sofa, pulling all the blankets back up around my body.
"Bedtime." Cam states.
He pulls Noah towards the stairs still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
"Night boys," I call out to them.
Noah turns around, giving me that killer smile that makes me weak in the knees.
The killer smile that tells me he has no idea how affected I am by him.
The hallway door closes. I fold my head into the pillow and groan into the soft fabric.
====================================================================
I manage to call shotgun again the next morning. So, my usual seat in the front of Noah's car is secure as we drive Cam to work.
Noah looks tired today. More tired than I feel, with dark circles under his eyes and hair messier than usual. He's got his overalls on over his clothes, which smell like fabric softener.
"Oh, I'm working late today." I tell them both. "We have big presentations on Friday to prep for."
"Presentations?" Cam asks.
"Yeah, we have our first pitch of the Christmas campaign so we need to get organised this afternoon. I get overtime though, so all good." I explain.
"What time will you finish?" Noah asks.
"I'm not sure," I shrug, pulling my bottom lip into my mouth. "I can get a lift from Isobel if it's too late though."
"Don't stress," he smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes today. "Just text me when you're finished."
We drop Cam off at the bank. Noah plays some music quietly through the speakers as we drive onto the high street and towards my office.
He even sings along quietly, tapping his hand on the steering wheel in time with the beat.
There's no conversation about work today, just humming and quietly singing until we pull up to the no-parking zone.
"Don't overwork yourself, alright?" he insists.
"Cross my heart." I tell him, making the lines across my chest before pulling myself from the leather seats and out of the car.
He's still parked up when I get to the glass doors today, and when I turn around, he winds the window down halfway.
"Have a good day!" I call to him, grinning at how he's tilting himself towards me. His head lulls against the window.
He doesn't reply, but I feel his eyes on me as I step through the doors and make my way over to the lift. He's gone once I've pressed the button to call it down.