"See that's the difference between adults and child—"
"Young adults, but most women tell me I'm a man," Noah said with a wink.
Melanie rolled her eyes. Clearly, she did not think the same. "Most girls," she corrected. "And I can pay for my own food. You have to give me a better bet than that if you want me to waste my food on you."
"During your next exam, I'll help you out," Noah said. After the last time, Melanie's teacher assistant had become too busy with her family life to work for Melanie anymore.
Melanie stared at him for a second, her brown eyes searching his own before she lifted her hand. "Deal," she said, and he grabbed her hand, shaking it.
For the next forty minutes, they stood inside of her hot kitchen cooking with the ingredients they had, and halfway through, Noah realized he had been completely mistaken about Melanie. Though she looked like someone who would be too busy to cook, she definitely knew how too.
And when both of their plates sat on the table together, just from the looks of it, there was a clear winner.
Melanie looked at him triumphantly, her brown eyes sparkling with delight, and wordlessly, Noah took a bite of the smothered chicken with homemade mashed potatoes and tasted heaven. Flavors burst in his mouth— pepper, curry, creamy, cheesy goodness. Noah took another bite, his tongue and stomach satisfied with the food in front of him.
"I have classes on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Make sure you aren't late," she told him with a grin.
"You haven't even tasted my stuff yet. You can't always judge a book by its cover."
Melanie was not impressed by his idiom, but she picked up her fork anyway. Noah watched as she put the chicken that looked slightly overcooked in her mouth. Immediately, a frown settled on her face.
"It's not that bad," Noah said indignantly.
"Oh, yes it is," Melanie said after swallowing the food like she was swallowing a huge pill. "If Gordon Ramsay was here, he would tear you a new one for this bland chicken."
"Whatever," Noah said as he continued to dig into the plate she made for him. She grabbed her own plate with her food on it, and they sat at the dining room table as the TV played in the background.
By the time Noah finished his food, he was stuffed silly, and already, he wanted to sleep. He slumped in his chair, lifting his shirt as he rubbed his bloated stomach, his eyes fluttering shut. Noah didn't know how long he dozed off until he felt something drop on his face. When he opened his eyes, he saw white. He took the cloth off his face and saw Melanie walking to the kitchen with two plates in her hand, including his.
"This isn't a bed and breakfast," she said as she started washing the dishes. It felt like it, and right now, that couch looked beautiful, and when Noah thought about Melanie's bed and how soft it probably was, he definitely wanted to go back there and lay his head down and sleep. He was tired. And he doubted it was just because of the flight of stairs he had taken twice, and it had all the more to do with the game and the partying.
He yawned loudly, wishing that he could get up and help her. After all, she was the one who cooked the better food. But his eyes were heavy, and his mind was foggy. When Noah stood stretching his weak limbs, he thought he was going to head to the kitchen, but, instead, he mindlessly walked over to the couch and plopped down.
"Hey, go home and sleep," she called, but Noah waved her off.
"I'm not sleeping. I'm resting my eyes," he said as he tucked a pillow behind his head. He was so fucking tired. He just needed to close his eyes for one minute, and he would be back up and running again— just one minute or two.
***
When Noah opened his eyes again, the sky was no longer tinted a light blue, but instead, it was dark with only the moon and the city lights to brighten it. The TV was on mute, and a blanket was covering him. He looked at his phone, the culprit that had woken him up from his sleep, and answered it without looking at who called.
"Hello," he said hoarsely.
"Where the hell are you, man? I thought you were going to pick up some food," Adam said over the phone, and then Noah remembered what his first intentions were when he went to the grocery store, but instead, he had spent the whole day with Melanie. When he sat up to look for her, he saw her on the other couch. A book hung limply from her hand, and her head laid against the headrest as she softly snored.
"I'll be over there soon," Noah said before hanging up. He stood from the couch and thought to himself that he had been right about her couch being a good place to sleep. He grabbed the blanket and walked over to Melanie before gently removing the book from her hand and laying the blanket on top of her.
When he pulled back, he found himself staring at her sleeping face, noticing the mole hidden under her ear and the apples of her cheek. And as he stood in her apartment watching her sleep, Noah couldn't help but wonder to himself how they had even gotten to this point. Just a few weeks ago, he was positive that Melanie hated him. Hell, just a few weeks ago, he would have never thought of her as Melanie, at least not in a serious way. She was just Professor Bryant, the professor who was making his life hell. But now, she was Melanie, his friend. Could he call her his friend? Did students have professors that were friends? And not in the way where you came to ask them for advice about your career, but a serious friend. Did Melanie even think of him the same?
Noah tucked the covers around Melanie more and resisted the urge to pick her up and take her to her room. He had a feeling she wouldn't appreciate that, and that he would be pushing a boundary that he shouldn't be.
Before he left out, Noah shot her a text telling her thanks for the food and that he'll see her on Monday.
CHAPTER
16
NOAH
