Page 23 of Lift Me Up

The cabinets are all painted a sunny yellow colour with glass window framed doors and interesting patterned patchwork wallpaper inside. Noah told me on our first day he found it ‘blinding and demanding.’ When I asked what he meant, he said that yellow was number one on his list of colours that force you to feel things. At the time, I thought he was joking. But then he proceeded to list the other colours on his list, and their associated emotions, and then I realized that he was dead serious.

It’s charming, he’s charming, and effortlessly funny. Noah is everything I imagined he’d be and then some, and while it’s amazing, it’s also incredibly infuriating. There’s a part of me that wonders if I am feeling this way because of our history, because of the way we met, the way he was there for me the only way he could be in time of crisis. Did I form an attachment because he was nice? Because he’s a fucking vision, how he waltzes around the room like he magically understands how the world works?

But then there’s a part of me, a really big part, that knows that I just… like him. I like his personality; I like the way we could end a conversation and jump right into a new one or feel like we don’t even need to say anything at all. He’s easy on the eyes too. We spend the first few days of our new jobs together, learning together, me teaching him that there is actually a difference between acrylic yarn and cotton, how to turn a skein into a hank or a ball, Noah teaching me how to use the register that he knows from a previous job. We complement each other in the best way, and maybe I’m reading into things…

I would never voice any of this out loud, especially not to him. I am more of a ‘suffer in silence until you just can’t take it anymore’ sort of gal, and this is something I may have to take to the grave. I can’t pursue Noah, not after just finding him by chance. Not after the friendship we’ve already developed. Nothing, not even a big stupid feelings kind of crush would ever make me want to jeopardize that.

Lunch is… even weirder. Abi orders in a smorgasbord of foods, a variety of mini pasta dishes from the local Italian eatery, garlic knots and salad, sticky toffee cake for dessert, vegetarian options from the vegan takeout place just a few shops down, Chinese and southern comfort food at the edges of the table. It’s all set out family style, but when I get to the table, I notice something is off.

“There’s only…” I count again to make sure I am not missing anything, “There are only two plates.”

“That is because I already ate my lunch, my dear. You and Noah have a good little ‘get to know you’ lunch, since you’ll be working so closely together.” Abi’s eyes sparkle as she walks over and claps Noah on the shoulder. She absolutely planned this.

She knows too much about this situation, knows how I feel about Noah because of deduction and possibly because I have a big mouth and told her everything. She’s trying to play matchmaker in a game the pawn has no idea he’s playing, and the knight is about to sacrifice herself to save her heart. Noah is oblivious, already starting to pull food onto his plate, looking up to Abi with a toothy grin.

“You mean all this is just for us?” He gestures to the spread.

“It is. I wasn’t sure what you liked, but I know missy over here likes Italian, so I took a shot with the others. Although it looks like you’ll enjoy it all just fine. Sit, Georgie.” Abi tells me, and I listen because to argue would be to reveal how much I know I shouldn’t be doing this.

“Enjoy. I’ll see you all in an hour, and not a moment sooner.” She taps the table like that’s that, and then she walks away humming a familiar tune.

“Are you gonna grab anything? I am starving,” Noah asks, mouth slightly full of garlic bread. I snap back to where he’s absolutely inhaling the food on his plate and still grabbing for more.

“Um. Yeah. Save me some knots, jeez.” I tease him, ignoring every alarm going off in my Georgie brain, grabbing the last two garlic knots before he can eat those too.

His cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink and he smiles, “Sorry, food is life, and normally my daily routine consists of ramen and anything I can steal from my sister’s place.”

“Do you know how to cook?” I ask, swirling chopsticks into the veggies from the Chinese food. He watches me dump the veg on my plate, using the chopsticks to pick out the nightshades in the mix. When I look back at him watching me, his eyebrows are knit in confusion, but he doesn’t ask what he’s thinking.

He shakes away the thought and answers my original question instead, “I can cook, but I don’t like doing it if I don’t have to. Easier just to grab something on the go or something I can throw in a microwave. My sister nags me for it too. I think you two would get along well.”

“I’m sure we would from what I have heard about her.”

I grab the small tin of alfredo pasta and dip my garlic knot in the sauce. I know I will pay for eating this later, and I remind myself to get Epsom salts for a bath later tonight to try and combat the inevitable flare that will come from eating something remotely tasty. It’s a Catch-22, really. Eat healthy, get flares. Eat bad, get flares. No one wins.

“So,” His voice breaks my train of thought, I look up to see Noah pushing food around his plate with his fork, glancing up at me slowly, smiling when he realizes he finally has my attention.

“So…?” I intone his words back to him.

“I was thinking about going this weekend to hang out with some of the new rescues at the Pawsitive Passion Project shelter, would you maybe want to come with me?”

I gawk, clearing my throat as I pick my jaw up off the table hoping he didn’t just see that. Did he seriously just ask me that?

“I… You’re asking me to go with you?”

“Yes.”

“To a dog shelter.”

“Yes?” He says it with a questioning tone, trying to figure out my train of thought.

“To hang out with rescue dogs… on a Saturday?”

“Yes.” He says emphatically, beaming at me.

“Why?”

“Why not? It could be fun!”