9. Nine
Nine
Lennon
“ H ow do you continue a casual conversation with someone while staying at their house after making out with them?”
“Oh, hello, Lennon.” Ellis has the wherewithal to seem unfazed by the unannounced video call and unhinged question, but Cass’s jaw is on the floor. Actually, it might be in hell.
Cass pauses her walk down the busy street, the city lights illuminating her blonde hair as it whips around. “I beg your pardon,” she says. “What did you just ask?”
I look up, noting the fan in Noah’s bathroom is loud, but it doesn’t seem loud enough for this conversation. Standing from where I placed myself on the floor, I turn the sink on, hoping the water will drown out my conversation.
This probably should have waited.
After Noah left me standing in his bedroom, I didn’t really know what to do. I’ve never been stunned silent before, except maybe when my father is talking to me about passions and career trajectories. That will shut me up pretty quickly.
Aside from that, I always have something to say–always.
Not this time.
When Noah disappeared down the hall, the fog of whatever his kiss had done to me finally lifted. Reality crashed into me, realizing how forward I’d been–desperate. Embarrassment burned hot in my blood as I analyzed everything that followed that kiss.
He’d vowed kissing wouldn’t happen again and had no qualms when it came to leaving me alone in his bedroom. The entire interaction reminded me of everything I’ve heard about him.
If casual is a requirement, I’ll slap that shit on my resume and apply because the man can kiss.
I didn’t know where to go from his bedroom, and since his house is nowhere near the size of the bed-and-breakfast, I scurried to the bathroom, locked the door, and sent out an SOS via Facetime.
If Noah could be cool and unrattled after a kiss like that, so could I.
I return to my spot on the bathroom floor. “I’m just wondering,” I start. “If you were to make out with someone–”
Ellis settles on the couch, popping a chip in her mouth and asking her question around it. “Did you go on a date with this person?” she asks.
“No, it’s casual.”
Cass chuckles as she keeps walking. “Everything seems very casual. Casual conversation, casual making out. Who is this theoretical guy?”
No sense in hiding it. “It’s Noah, but that’s beside the point.”
Ellis chokes on a chip, and her eyes flick away from the screen to catch on someone who is with her. My eyes narrow, knowing exactly who she is with.
“Wait, did she say Noah?” Griffin’s deep voice comes out of my phone speaker, and I realize I’ve fucked up. He’s best friends with Noah. This is already a mess.
I roll my eyes. “Your relationship is ruining my life, Ellis. Hi, Griffin.”
His face pops up on the screen as he sits next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. “Lennon,” he says, inviting himself to this panicked group Facetime call from the inside of the bathroom.
Lovely.
“If I made out with Noah for some weird fucking reason, how should I go about acting normal after the fact.”
“Acting normal?” Ellis questions. “How did this even happen, for starters? Why are you at his house? Was this premeditated? What is going on?”
I lean back against the sink cabinets, holding my phone aloft. “None of that is relevant. It was an accident–I think. He started it.” I chew on my thumbnail as the water continues to run behind me. He’s probably going to murder me for this month’s water bill. “Well, technically, I asked for it.”
Griffin shifts to pull his phone from his back pocket, and for the first time in my life, I think I have a mini panic attack.
“Don’t text him!” I screech.
He looks up, brows furrowing before he sets his phone aside. “Sorry, I was just trying to get the full story here,” Griffin chimes in. “Don’t you hate him?”
“Yes.” No? “I shouldn’t have gotten everyone involved.”
Cass walks off the street, her microphone clearly muted as she enters what appears to be a bar. When she unmutes it, country music blasts through the speakers. “You summoned a whole committee for this, Lennon.” She presses a button, and her line goes silent.
“So, I did.”
“And you’re still at his house?” Ellis asks.
It’s official. I’m being crazy.
I’ve never had a one-night stand before. I’ve had a handful of relationships at varying levels of seriousness, but I’m not under the impression Noah does anything serious–except maybe sticking his tongue down throats. He seemed incredibly serious when he shoved it down my throat. He was very skilled.
I’m not even sure what I want from all of this. There’s no future, but I can admit that I like Noah–as a person. He’s funny, intelligent, fucking hot.
It would have been the right move to think everything through before I asked him to kiss me… again.
I can feel my cheeks flush, probably obvious to the committee I’ve summoned. “Yes,” I say. “I am. I should probably go. There were bats in my chimney, and he was helping out. It’s very complicated, and I’ll have to explain later.”
Cass unmutes her microphone again. “We can all get coffee or something later. Maybe we can come by the bed-and-breakfast to discuss next weekend.”
“I’ve been wanting to do a bonfire thing,” I say. “You’re right. We will discuss later. Don’t fucking text him, Griffin. You’re on my side.”
His brow furrows. “There are sides?”
“Yes.” I hear a sound on the other side of the door and stand up. “Okay, everyone, meeting over.”
Hanging up my phone, I quickly shut off the water, turn the fan off, and open the door. Noah stands there with one brow cocked and his fist raised as if he were about to knock.
“Everything alright?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I wipe my hands on my pants. “I actually forgot my bag. I’m going to change.”
“About earlier–”
Oh god. Kissing him back was a terrible idea. The worst idea I’ve had to date. Worse than staying in Ohio after college to get away from my family's judgment–something that hadn’t worked at all. My father and sister are fully capable of judging my life choices from states away.
And when it comes to Noah Ashwood, I’m fully capable of wanting more.
The man chased a bat out of my house, ended up receiving one of multiple rabies shots, and not once was he upset with me. He didn’t judge the bed-and-breakfast idea. He’s shown nothing but kindness, and something about that is messing with my head.
“It didn’t mean anything,” I say, my tone coming out bored. If I’m good at anything, it is not showing my true emotions. Shrugging, I skirt around him, finding my backpack left by the front door and slinging it over my shoulder. I packed some leggings and a sweatshirt to sleep in.
Noah blocks my return to his restroom, towering over me as his dark eyes bore into mine. “Right. I don’t do relationships.”
I can feel my face scrunch up. What does he think? I’m in love with him or something?
I laugh it off. “I know that, Noah. I’m not an idiot. It was just a kiss.” A good fucking kiss, and he knows it too, or he wouldn’t be clarifying right now.
He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page. I meant what I said, though.” He’s not wearing his glasses but still has the same outfit on from earlier–minus the sweater. “We can’t do it again. There are too many complications–our lives are too entwined. But I’d like to be friends.”
I blink.
This is an odd speech.
I was under no false impressions that Noah was doing anything more than kissing me. I’ve liked having him around–arguing with him. That doesn’t mean that I’m expecting anything from him. Maybe I’m just a little hurt over the art show last spring and needing an outlet. I’ve been on a few dates over the summer, but nothing memorable. Then Noah came in, asking to fix my toilet. He took everything I threw at him and didn’t balk. Instead of deeming me a failure for doing this thing and buying the house, he came in and offered to help with things he knew nothing about.
He was trying to help last spring when he chased off my date.
Deep down, Noah is a lot more than his fear of relationships or whatever this is, but I know better than to hope that he’d see me as special or different. I’m not the one that will change his mind.
I realize I haven’t answered. “Sure. You can come to the bonfire at the house next weekend, Friend.” My grip tightens on my backpack. “I just started planning it, and I’m inviting Ellis, Cass, and maybe some others. Griffin will be invited. It’ll be a party, I suppose.”
“Great.” He smiles.
“Great.”
The silence that follows is deafening and uncomfortable. I can’t help but fill it.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” I ask, and Noah raises his brows. “As friends.”
Clearing his throat, Noah shifts where he stands. His eyes flick toward the living room before one corner of his mouth turns up. “What do you want to watch?”
I shrug, pushing past him to change into my more comfortable clothes. “Something nobody has heard of,” I toss over my shoulder. “We can surf whatever streaming service you have when I’m done.”
Noah had gotten a plate together of fancy cheeses, crackers, fruit, and meat while I was changing and had it ready and waiting when I returned. We settled on a mystery thriller about a detective getting involved with a former cold case and uncovering dark secrets, and so far, the film is exactly something I’d be interested in.
Minus the jump scares.
“I didn’t think you’d be the type to freak out every time something jumps out.” Noah’s voice trails over my skin, making goosebumps rise.
“I’m not freaked out,” I say, wrapping my arms around my torso and fixing my eyes to the screen. When I bring my legs up onto the couch, knees as close to my chest as I can get them, I’m not sure I’m convincing Noah of anything.
“Sure,” he says, and I risk glancing in his direction. He’s still wearing the same outfit from earlier, and I can’t help but wonder what he sleeps in. Slacks? It’s hard to picture him in anything else. “You only leap five feet off the couch every time a very predictable jump scare occurs.”
I stretch my leg across the small sectional and push against his leg, feeling nothing but firm muscle beneath. “I am not jumping five feet off the couch.” The phantom of his kiss passes over my mouth, my lips tingling with the memory. My cheeks heat, and I run my finger over the edge of one of Noah’s fancy pillows. The embroidery decorating the fabric scratches against my skin.
“Are you embarrassed?” he asks.
“No.”
He’s shifting closer as I draw my legs back. The only thing I’m scared of is the warmth of his nearness as he places himself right next to me, miles of couch sprawling behind him. God , it’s like the kiss did nothing to settle my attraction to the man. If anything, it only awakened a beast inside of me. A beast that absolutely must be ovulating.
Noah brings his face closer to mine, a smile forming on his lips. “Your cheeks are turning red. You’re definitely embarrassed.” He leans back but keeps himself close enough to touch, turning to face the television again. “The jump scares are predictable, Lennon. I’m surprised someone like you would fall for it.”
“Someone like me?” I ask, unsure of his meaning. “And what am I, Noah?”
Those dark eyes flick in my direction, one brow cocked as he lifts his arm to rest on the back of the couch. Luckily, I’m still pressed against the corner of the sectional facing him, or his arm would be around me.
“Intelligent,” he finally responds. The smile falls from his face, his brows lowering in the dim lights of his living room. “Stalwart and passionate.” He looks away, focusing on the movie once more, but I’m no longer watching.
Something warms in my chest at the words he chose to describe me. Of course they mean nothing–Noah hardly knows me, but still, the contrast between what he’s said and what my father has told me is obvious. I’ve been called foolish, fanciful, difficult, selfish. None of those words are positive–nothing like stalwart or intelligent .
Despite my best efforts to keep my vulnerability hidden, I test the waters, scoffing. “Selfish, maybe. Impulsive.”
Noah looks at me again, and it feels like he is looking right through me, concern etched into every wrinkle as he tries to discern my meaning. “You bought the bed-and-breakfast.” he says. “Planned what you’d do. Budgeted. Went after exactly what you wanted.”
I don’t understand where he’s going with this. “Yeah,” I say.
“Someone hand you that money overnight?”
Rude . I’m sure he sees the look of disgust on my face, but he doesn’t pull back. “No. I made sacrifices. I saved.”
Noah leans closer, his eyes running from my gaze to the tips of my toes and back up. It’s almost painful to be seen like this. I don’t like my insecurities laid out so plainly. “That’s hardly impulsive.” He leans away again, and I’m not sure if I’m enjoying the odd push and pull or if it is driving me mad.
Probably both.
Noah continues, “and entering hospitality as a career path is hardly selfish . You’ll be serving other people.”
He leaves it at that, lost in the movie again and not acknowledging me at all.
The man just gave me a speech about how he doesn’t do relationships. I assured him it was just a kiss, but I now see the danger of Noah Ashwood. It’s not just that he’s attractive. It’s that he’s perceptive, funny, and kind. It’d be easy to lose myself in him.
“Is this about what my dad said on the phone?” I ask, and by his short humph and the way he won’t look at me, I know it has to be true.
I let myself relax more into the cushions, spreading out until my foot is just touching him as I turn to watch the TV.
“Thanks,” I almost whisper.
Noah taps the top of the couch where his hand is still resting. “Just telling the truth.”
A small smile plays on my lips, and when a little girl jumps out in front of the protagonist, combined with the creepiest music I’ve ever heard. I don’t even jump.