If he’d looked in Noa’s direction he would have noticed the masterful way she was trying to mask her amusement at how his gaze was settling everywhere but on her while he discarded his clothes. For her part, she was settled on the far side of the room, perched on a corner of her bed to try and give some impression of privacy. The awkwardness barely registered with her, but for one reason or another he wasn’t comfortable. She didn’t think there was a thing she could do about that.
While he’s occupied, Noa slips out of the denim cutoffs and sweater she’d been lounging in, returning them to one of the drawers beneath her bed and leaving her in just the tank she’d been wearing and her panties. “They have a gym at the medical center?” she asks to break the silence, and because she has eyes and can’t help but notice that Pete’s in good shape. But she might be doing it just to see how he’s going to respond also.
It’s still a novelty to her how something seems to be setting him off enough that he can’t get completely comfortable. Maybe she’s desensitized to how odd his staying over is. “Or is it damn good genetics, sweetheart?” Noa cracks then, her eyes twinkling mischief as she shifts, stretches out and haphazardly pulls her covers up.