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Noel
I’m free that night.
Colby
Great. You have to act like this is a real date, dress up and everything. And I’m going to pick you up.
Noel
*eyeroll emoji* we don’t need to take it that seriously.
Colby
Yes, we do. Making conversation in the car on the way to the restaurant is the worst part of the whole date. Therefore, you need to practice.
Noel
Okay fine. You have a point.
I pump my fist into the air. “I have a date with Noel!” I shout to my empty house. Even though she thinks it’s fake, it’s progress.
* * *
Pulling up to Noel’s apartment complex Friday evening, I take a moment to study my surroundings. To picture her here, parking her Chevy Bel Air, shuffling through her purse. Stepping inside her apartment that I just know is cozy… toeing off her shoes and curling up with a book. I want to be there for all of it. I want to watch her in every simple moment of life, see her graceful movements and be part of them. To embrace her in the kitchen while she cooks, to sit on the couch and read together at night. To go to bed with her, kissing up and down her body, then waking up tangled together.
She makes me want things I didn’t ever think I could want. I thought I’d be like my dad, playing around forever. Taking advantage of the attention women give me. But I look at my mother, who’s waited years to meet that perfect guy. The one who will love her forever. And then I see my father, who dated anything with a pulse, until one got pregnant. And even then, it’s only a matter of time before he leaves Serenity for a new pursuit. And little Ruthie will be left in the wake of his selfishness. A pattern I’m all too familiar with. Except she has a big brother who will always keep an eye on her, always love her.
Even the dread of seeing my dad and Serenity this weekend is overshadowed by the joy of seeing Ruthie. I can’t wait for Noel to meet her since Ruthie is coming with me to the fantasy convention. Our costumes are going to blow her away.
Straightening my shoulders, I brush thoughts of my dad out of my head and make my way to Noel’s apartment on the third floor. It’s an old building, charming but slightly run down. I smile to myself, wondering if that’s what drew Noel to this place. Noel, the beautiful angel with an ancient soul.
I’m about to knock on Noel’s door when I feel like I’m being watched. I swivel my head to look at the door behind me, which is open just a crack, and it slams shut. Noel’s door flies open, and she drags me into her apartment, muttering something under her breath that sounds like, “hurry up before Steve sees you.”
A four-letter word flies out of my mouth before I can stop it and Noel glares at me with her arms crossed.
“What?” I throw my hands up. “You drag me inside your apartment with a comment about someone named Steve and expect me to stay calm?”
She relaxes, as if realizing how ridiculous the last ten seconds were. “Okay, good point. Steve is my nosey neighbor; he’s retired and has nothing to do all day. And, unfortunately, he’s a big Eagles fan. I don’t want him inviting himself over here.”
I study her apartment while she rattles on about Steve. It’s similar to how I pictured it. The living room has a loveseat and two comfy-looking chairs across from it, and in place of a coffee table she has a tufted, floral ottoman. There are bookshelves all around the room. A round dining table rests on the opposite side of the living space, and there’s a small kitchen right off of the dining room. It’s clean, but messy and disorderly, which surprises me. I assumed Noel was a neat freak. But the apartment looks lived-in and comfortable, like you could kick your shoes off and take a nap on the couch without messing anything up.
I realize she’s paused in her rant about her neighbor, waiting for me to say something. “Very creepy,” I tell her, and she seems satisfied with that.
“You have no idea. When West used to come here to see Mel, Steve would come up with the weirdest excuses to knock on our door. One time, he asked if he could borrow a cup of water, saying he had run out.”
I laugh at that. “Steve isn’t very creative.”
“Definitely not,” she says, turning and grabbing a brown, leather purse from the small table. She’s wearing navy tights with a cream-colored dress that has one of those old-fashioned collars at the neck. She’s paired a dark red cardigan over the top, probably a good idea this late in September. She looks like she belongs in an old movie set somewhere in Europe.
“You look lovely.”
She turns toward me, adjusting the strap of her purse on her shoulder. “Oh, thanks.” She takes a moment to take in my appearance for the first time and her jaw tenses. “Really, Colby?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at my vest.
I smooth my hands down my red, cable-knit sweater vest, feigning confusion. “What? You don’t like my outfit?”
“You’re a pig. I’m never telling you anything ever again.”
“So dramatic. I only wanted to impress you, angel.” I wink at her.
