“I bet you say that to all the girls,” I roll my eyes, smirking at him. When he doesn’t respond, I continue rambling. “Kentucky must be great, but I’ve never been further than Colorado, so I wouldn’t know. Kind of sad, huh?”
“That is sad,” he says. “I’d love to show you the south and everything you’ve been missing.”
Noah flirts seductively. Leaning in, he nudges his shoulder against my own.
Just the smallest brush of his body against mine sends my head spinning. Leaves me feeling like a nervous school girl who has never been touched by a boy before. I smile, loving the effect he has on me. Butterflies flutter in my lower stomach. The feeling he gives me is all kinds of crazy, and all kinds of wonderful too. It’s something I’ve never felt before, and I’m not sure how to process it.
“You keep laying on those southern manners nice and thick and I don’t think you will have to convince me much at all,” I flirt back.
Before either of us can say another word, the chair at the table next to us flips over as Gwen hits the table, almost running it and us over in the process. She’s out of breath and looks like a hot mess. I hate to admit it, loving the girl dearly, but this is no way to make a first impression. What’s worse is I know her presence, both awkward and embarrassing, is about to get much worse. She’s hammered, drunk, sweaty, and her makeup is smeared everywhere.
“Ev, we have to go, now!” She shouts, rounding the table and grabbing me by the arm. We stumble before we catch ourselves from tumbling over. Noah rises quickly from his seat to help.
“Now? Like this second now?” I ask. I pull my purse off the table and end up grabbing my coat with so much haste it drops to the floor. Noah picks it up and hands it to me with a pleading look.
“I’m sorry, I guess I’m going,” I say, feeling very disappointed. I attempt to pull back from the death grip Gwen has on my arm to buy myself a little more time with Noah, but fail miserably. I eventually give up and stumble backward as she continues pulling me towards the front door.
“Thanks for the drink,” I yell. His eyes grow panicked. Sad. “And the kiss,” I joke, as my heart begins to ache.
Noah says something and gestures like he wants to pull me back, but the noise in the bar makes it too loud to hear what he is trying to say, and I’m already too far away to feel his touch.
As we leave the bar, a part of me feels left behind. I struggle with my thoughts, trying to make sense of why I feel that way. As I hurry alongside my best friend once we reach the outside, I can’t help but hate her a little. It’s something I don’t do often, but just often enough to make me wonder why our friendship has lasted as long as it has. We start walking towards the parking garage, stopping occasionally when Gwen trips over her feet. We walk again only when she insists she doesn’t need any help.
My mind wanders back to Noah. What would have happened if we stayed longer? What could’ve happened if I wasn’t headed home tonight? Might I run into him again? I know it’s a long shot, but hey a girl can dream, can’t she?
But every happy thought I have quickly dissipates as I turn around just in time to see Gwen throwing up in the bushes.
Chapter Five
Eva
Fall has finally arrived in northern California when I return home from Orange County. It’s mid-November, and the trees are beautiful shades of reds and oranges. As I drive toward my apartment, dozens of leaves line the streets and take flight when the breeze hits them just right. A late afternoon rain shower makes the sidewalks wet, and the winter chill is slowly starting to set in after its long absence.
The rain feels so incredible. California has been in another one of its long droughts, and our state has barely seen rain in four long years. I catch myself sighing contentedly as I drive through my small town, realizing how my love for the fall grows more and more each year. Rolling down the window, I let in the smell of fresh rain and breathe deeply. The light crisp fall breeze mysteriously finds a way of always refreshing me.
Eventually, I pull up to my apartment and can’t wait to get out and stretch my legs. The drive from southern California to Nevada City is almost eight hours and sometimes seems never ending. Especially that torturous last hour as anxiety over wanting and needing to get home creeps in.
Jumping out of the car in relief, I walk around to the trunk and grab my bag before heading inside. My apartment is an old Victorian house at the top of one of the main streets in town. It has been renovated and divided into four units. Walls have been erected in the foyer of the old house to establish separate living quarters. There are two apartments downstairs and two apartments upstairs. Mine is at the top of the stairs on the right, and is actually the largest of the four units, having two bedrooms in addition to the family room, bathroom, and kitchen.
I take the time to grab my enormous stack of mail that accumulated all week while I was away and try my best to balance carrying it upstairs with my luggage. With each step, I wonder how I will even manage to unlock my door, but somehow pull off the juggling act and make it inside. Dropping my things in the entry, I run to the wall across the living room to start the heater. The one drawback to living in an old building is no central heating or air-conditioning, at least not in this old house. I don’t mind, though. One of the things that sold me on moving here is the town’s charm. Growing up, I always admired this old Victorian town with its cute vintage houses and boutiques that line Main Street.
The wall heater soon clicks away, beginning to give much needed warmth to the room as I make my way to the kitchen and pour a big glass of red wine. Long car rides deserve big glasses of wine. Although, as I watch the crimson liquid fill the glass, I can’t help but wonder what some good bourbon tastes like.
Shoving the thought from my mind, and the memory of the one man it evokes, I take sip after long sip and begin the torturous process of thumbing through my mail. Throwing bills and junk aside, I settle on a magazine and browse the pages, only half paying attention to what I’m looking at. As much as I try, I can’t stop thinking of last night and Noah.
It’s driving me crazy. He’s driving me crazy. But, what’s even more crazy is the thought that it doesn’t matter. I could go on thinking about him day after day after day, but it won’t change the fact that I’ll never see him again. For one, he’s from another state. Two, we never had a chance to exchange any information to contact each other. Thanks to Gwen.
Or maybe I actually should thank her. Noah was a beautiful distraction. One I can’t afford. One I don’t need. In the short amount of time we sat at the table together, I found myself beginning to want him, and that could be dangerous.
Having planned out my life from a young age, I decided early on I would never let a man get in the way of accomplishing my dreams, and I’m not about to start now. I’m so close to what I’ve always wanted, I cannot afford any distractions, no matter how tempting and delicious they might be.
I’m not going to let a guy come along now and stop me from obtaining my one goal: moving home.
After graduating college, I promised myself I would work a few years up north and put in my time as a new journalist, building a strong resume until the bigger newspapers would take notice. I’m so close I can almost feel it. All I need is that one shot at landing a big job, and I would be set.
No man is going to come along now and take away the dream that I have had ever since my parents moved me up north. Not even a southern boy with charm for days that has my head spinning, and my knees buckling.
Chemistry leads to feelings, which leads to sex. And sex typically leads to commitment, which obviously means a relationship, which leads to love and more feelings which screws up my plans and my future.
