"Are you sure you're okay?" Noah asked me during breakfast on Sunday. It was just us at the table full of food. His brothers had already ate and were upstairs in their room going over Coach's email while his parents were working, showing open houses to potential clients.
I shrugged. "I feel better. Just stop poking me."
He waved his hands freely for me to see. "No poking! See? I'm just worried about you. Him. It. This."
I frowned and stabbed my scrambled eggs. "I'll feel better if you quit asking about it. I already talked to Dr. Moore yesterday. I'm all talked out." I spent most of Saturday afternoon talking about my abstract feelings for Jeremy and the more I thought about, the more annoyed I got.
"Jake." Noah sounded sad, making me look up. He looked upset.
"What..?" I asked, worried about what he was going to say.
"You're not going to leave us for him, are you?" He pouted.
