“Watching over them,” she argues. “Noah’s been mowing my lawn and fixing things around the house as if I wouldn’t realize the porch light turns on now, or the swing is hanging again.”
I smile, because I knew about the mowing, but it feels very Noah to do other things and hope no one would notice.
“Did Trent make it back for Thanksgiving?” I ask of her grandson who was drafted at the same time as Dallas, though I’m afraid I haven’t followed his career much.
“Team commitments,” she says, proud of him, but also disappointed. “But Bree is living here now, to keep an eye on me, and Trent will make it up to us at Christmas.”
“That’ll be nice.”
“You and Noah can pop over anytime.”
“We’re just friends,” I tell her, reminding myself in the process.
“Friends spend time together. And it’s the best foundation for something more.”
She winks and heads inside without a proper goodbye, which confuses me until I hear a vehicle coming up behind me.
* * *
“Sorry I’m late,” Noah says as soon as he’s out, coming close like he’s about to lift me in his arms as he does for Izzie, but he stops awkwardly. Or maybe he just stops, and I feel awkward because he’s eying me like he did the other day, before the kiss.
“I’m early.” I find my voice.
“Let’s get you warmed up.” He takes my hand to pull me inside the familiar two-story house. “Have you been waiting long?”
“Nope, the walk was shorter than I expected.”
“You walked? Is something wrong with your car? I could have picked you up, but I can also take a look at?—”
“No, I just—I might need lots of alcohol,” I admit, hating how nervous I am, but my heart flutters at how quickly he tried to take care of me.
“Hey.” He comes close and envelops me in his arms for a hug. “Nothing has to happen tonight. We can watch a movie in the living room, I’ll blow your mind with my culinary snack skills, and that can be it. Save side quests for another night.”
“Hell yes or fuck no?” I ask.
“Fuck yes,” he agrees with a smirk that lifts whatever nerves the hug didn’t.
Noah logs into a streaming account and hands me the remote, but there’s also a box of DVDs he says I’m free to explore while he makes popcorn.
“You have Mighty Ducks!” I exclaim after rifling through a lot of action movies.
“You know it?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
“I saw them when I was maybe five, so they’re probably not as good as I remember.”
“They are,” he assures me.
He sits beside me on the couch after setting it up, with the bowl of popcorn — sans raisinets — between us. My nerves are back in force, waiting for him to do the stretch that’ll put his arm around me, or some other move from junior high, but less than ten minutes into the movie, his roommates realize what we’re watching and join us after the briefest of introductions. They literally just tell me their names, eyes mostly on the screen, except for Colt, who looks from me to Noah, then winks at me. They all smile like I’m hilarious when I introduce myself.
I expect to be relieved that they’ve taken the pressure off, but I’m disappointed. Yes, I’m nervous, but I also really want this. Really want Noah. Which is why even if I know nothing is coming from it when he finally wraps his arm around me – no fake yawns necessary – it feels natural. Comfortable even, if you forget the warmth that spreads from everywhere he touches me. By the time the movie is over, the last thing I want to do is go home.
“Can you stay to watch the second one?” Noah asks me like he doesn’t want tonight to end either.
“Shit, we were supposed to be at Slapshots an hour ago,” Owen realizes.
“Can we blow it off and watch D2?” Michael tries.
“Don’t you want to get it over with?”
