17. Seventeen
Seventeen
Lennon
“ I have some friends coming over tonight. I’m just setting up.”
I hold the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I pull the chocolate bars, marshmallows, graham crackers, and hot dogs from the grocery bag and place them onto the kitchen island. My sister and I aren’t necessarily close, but we talk once in a while.
A ten-year age gap makes it difficult to grow up as if you aren’t an only child. By the time I reached high school, Lorelei was long gone but not forgotten. My parents were so proud of my sister’s drive and desire to become a doctor and made it clear at every turn.
They littered their conversations with praise of Lorelei’s incredible work ethic, her honorable pursuits, the kindness and softness she exuded as a child. In contrast, my anger burned hot and fast as a child, my goals scattered and fully based on my emotions.
It wasn’t until I fell in love with stories that I realized how much I wanted to know people. First books, then the front porch swing of an old neighbor across the street. She’d told me stories of her husband, a contractor who’d poured over the house with steady hands–adding the sunroom she loved so dearly to the back.
At every turn, I’d fallen in love with talking to people–learning about them.
I wanted to do something different.
My mom, though more supportive, has never had much of a backbone when it comes to my father. He’s opinionated and brash–which is probably where I get those qualities. When I decided to major in business in the hopes that I’d create a space where stories were welcomed, it didn’t seem to be good enough. Staying in Ohio and deciding against moving back to Minnesota? Not good enough. Buying this house? Also, not good enough.
My sister did help me get my job at the pediatric office, though. And while she isn’t the warmest, I suppose I can’t complain. I’m not really, either.
“Is the house even ready for guests?” she asks on the other line.
I huff a laugh–not as genuine as I’d like. “They’re just friends. We are having a bonfire and hanging out. While I’m still working on renovations, the house has plenty of space for me to hang out with my friends.”
I wad the grocery bags up and shove them into yet another grocery bag under the sink, closing the old cabinet before gripping my phone with my hand.
“Did you say you were doing most of the renovations yourself?” Lorelei asks.
“Yeah,” I turn, leaning against the kitchen island and looking out the window to the yard. The barn looms over the dying grass, the red paint worn, and the doors somewhat sticky. I like the barn and the old wooden banister of the staircase. I like the charm of the house. Lorelei would certainly hate it, but I don’t. My sister firmly subscribes to the sad millennial grey aesthetic.
“How’s that going?” she asks. I suppose I could work harder at holding up my end of the conversation.
“It’s good,” I note. “I have–” I pause for a moment, trying to figure out what to call Noah exactly. Fuck buddy doesn’t sound like anyone in my family would approve, but it also doesn’t seem incredibly accurate. “I have a friend helping me out.”
“Ellis knows about home renovations?”
“No.” I laugh. “Ellis knows nothing about home renovations.” I watch as a squirrel scurries across the yard, climbing up the trunk of the giant oak tree shading the side of the barn, the only tree before the treeline. “To be honest, Noah doesn’t know much either, but he's been pretty helpful. Redid a lot of the porch yesterday, so I don’t feel like I’ll die whenever I–”
“He?” she interrupts, and I can almost see the curious expression on her face.
“He’s a mutual friend.” I lean against the counter, wincing.
“I thought you said he was your friend?” she prods.
I roll my eyes. “I didn’t say those exact words.”
“They were implied, Lennon. Are you finally dating? It would be great for you to bring someone around this Thanksgiving if you’ll be in Minneapolis. I’m sure Devon would love to have someone other than dad to talk about sports with.”
Somehow, I don’t think Noah would enjoy talking about football the way Lorelei’s boyfriend does. Even though Devon is an engineer with a salary more than I could ever dream of, he’s a major sports guy. The kind to yell at the television every time a game is on–an activity he openly participates in at our house over the holidays.
“Noah might be more interested in talking about books than sports,” I confess, without really having a right to. Noah’s not visiting my family. He’s just a friend I had sex with. That’s all.
“Devon reads a lot of nonfiction. Is that what your guy reads?”
I blink. “He’s not my guy . He is an English Professor at a local college. And the idea of him coming to Minneapolis to meet our family is wildly out of the realm of possibilities.” I turn, stacking the chocolate bars on top of one another and then redoing the entire thing just to expel some energy. “Anyway, I need to go, Lor.”
“That’s fine.” There’s a pause on the line, and I expect her to hang up, but she doesn’t. “Lennon?”
My brow furrows. “What?”
“Nevermind. Mom is on the other line. She probably wants me to pick her up that buckeye cake from the hospital again. I’m on call, and she never fails to request hospital food. Something I will never understand because it all tastes terrible to me.”
I chuckle, glancing at the time on the microwave. It’s nearly six, and Ellis and Cass should be here soon to help set up. “Better answer her. You know how she is.”
I can hear the smile in her voice. “Needy as ever,” she says before hanging up.
Standing in my new kitchen, I look at the shelf above the bottom cabinets littered with paper plates and plastic cups I’ve been using since the house didn’t come with a dishwasher, and I got fucking tired of washing all my shit. I can see mismatched mugs and plates on that shelf–thrifted, most likely–and used to serve breakfast each morning.
The cabinets could use a fresh coat of paint, and I am pretty sure the lack of furniture throughout the house is going to be a problem. Moving from a small apartment to a large farmhouse really showed me how much space I didn’t have.
I blink and look back out the window, noting the fire pit with lawn chairs set up around it. Noah should be here closer to seven, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about how my sister just talked about him.
Would he watch football with my dad? Would my family even like someone like Noah? Aside from romantic spy novels, what does he read?
I pull out my phone, unable to help myself. His contact is a giant magnet, and unfortunately for me, I might just be made of metal.
Me: Do you like football?
“You’re telling me it’s not going to be weird, but I feel like it still might be weird.” Ellis leans over the kitchen island with a spoon and a jar of peanut butter–a delicacy she took to when we were in college.
I roll my eyes, gripping the edge of the counter across the sink to ground myself. Maybe Ellis is right. Maybe it will be weird with Noah here. After we slept together, we very nearly did it again. I’m also not sure how to interpret our texting conversations. He never responded to my question about football, so that says something.
Doesn’t it?
“We’re friends. It’s fine.”
“I don’t know,” Cass says from her spot across the kitchen and leaning against the stainless steel refrigerator. “I can fully admit that I don’t know how my friends feel inside of me, and I think that’s probably more normal.”
I chuckle, trying to brush it off before the rest of the guests arrive. Somehow, this bonfire became bigger than I had originally thought. Griffin is in town with the band playing a few shows nearby. He leaves again in a few days. I decided to invite that whole crowd, plus his friend Ryan, Ryan’s partner, and Noah, of course.
“Here’s a question,” Ellis starts. “What was the whole art show situation? You never fully told us what happened or why Noah was yelling on the porch.”
You’re the only one aside from my family that knows about my failed engagement.
“Noah used to know him through a former mutual friend. He was already married.”
“Ew, gross.” Ellis winces.
Cass sighs. “I’m not entirely convinced there are men out there who don’t cheat.” Her blue eyes flick to Ellis and widen. “Aside from Griffin, of course.”
Ellis stands straight, looking uncomfortable as she places the spoon back into the jar of peanut butter. “Yeah, so about that–”
My head whips to her, and I’m pretty sure the speed at which it happens would put a poltergeist to shame. “I’ll kill him,” I say–fully meaning it.
“It’s not that–” Ellis trails off, not finishing the sentence.
“Then what the fuck are you saying here.”
She waves her hands around wildly. “I don’t know!” she practically screeches. “Griffin’s been acting a little weird! I’m not sure. There’s no weird possessiveness over his phone or anything, but he’s on the road a lot and the vibes are–I’m not sure.”
There’s a low hum of anger running through my veins at the thought that Griffin would do anything to compromise their relationship. I’ve never seen Ellis so happy–so willing to step out and try new things. She’s always been anxious and somewhat of an overthinker. I like that Griffin’s brought out this other side of her, but if he so much as breathes the wrong way in her presence–
“I’ll get to the bottom of it,” I assert, and Ellis rolls her eyes.
“Please don’t,” she says.
“I’ll actually help!” Cass adds from where she’s standing just as the doorbell rings.
We all head that direction, and I can’t stop the small amount of nerves that decided to make an appearance, knowing that Noah might be the one at the door. I wipe my hands on my jeans and adjust the crewneck sweatshirt I threw on over my white t-shirt before walking down the hallway to the front door.
When I open it, Griffin stands with a pack of hard cider and a stupid fucking grin. I glare at him, hoping to ascertain whatever vibes might be off . “Griffin,” I say, my tone like ice.
“Lennon,” he responds before looking behind me. When he finds Ellis, it’s hard to see anything but complete adoration, but I’m the one that went on a date with a fucking married man. How am I to know?
“I think we should have a chat,” I say before Ellis steps in front of me, tucking herself beneath one of his arms and rolling her eyes.
“He should be right behind me,” Griffin says before moving past me and disappearing down the hallway with Ellis.
A jolt runs through me when I find Noah walking across the gravel, wearing another one of his stupid fucking sweaters and a pair of slacks. I desperately want to take them off him–feel the hard planes of his chest with my fingers.
“Well,” Cass whispers in my ear, gripping my arm. “I suddenly have to use the restroom.”
She’s gone before I can protest, and I’m left standing in the entryway with the man who I can’t seem to stop thinking about.
“You never answered my question,” I say by way of greeting.
Noah chuckles, that dimple popping out and making my knees weak. “Happy to see you too, Lennon.”
I raise a brow. “Football?”
“I’m more of a soccer guy, really.” He pushes his glasses up his nose, that smirk still lingering on his mouth–his bottom lip on display before me and ready to be kissed. I could pull it between my teeth–coax one of those delicious low groans from his throat.
My body feels flushed. “My dad hates soccer.”
Noah looks puzzled, and my stomach drops. What the fuck am I even saying?
“Okay?” he questions. “Your dad is also an asshole, so I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.”
I release a breathy laugh, one corner of my mouth turning upward.
“You guys coming?” Griffin shouts from the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Noah yells back.
I tilt my head to the side. “Also,” I start. “You know how we have our own little gossip thing going?” I lower my voice to a whisper. “Ellis said Griffin is acting weird.” My eyes narrow, hoping like hell I’m intimidating enough to get the truth out of him. Somehow–I don’t think Noah would lie to me. “Know anything about it?”
Noah steps closer, the scent of tobacco and vanilla making me dizzy. It must be his cologne, but it drags up memories I really shouldn’t be thinking about. “Yeah, actually,” he admits. “I do, but I’m not sure you won’t Facetime Ellis from my fucking bathroom and ruin it.”
I ignore the embarrassment that threatens to color my cheeks. “I’ll tell Ellis if she needs to know. He’s not fucking cheating, is he? Because I swear to fuck if–”
Noah’s hand gently covers my mouth, the warmth of his skin seeping all the way to my bones as I stop talking. When he pulls his hand away, he leans closer, so close I can feel his breath on my face–spearmint and something that is so Noah. My stomach dips. “He’s not cheating,” he says. “Quite the opposite, actually.”
My brow furrows. “The opposite of–”
Noah raises his brows.
“Oh.” Oh my god . I think my entire soul is aglow. “He’s proposing?” I whisper a little louder than I intended.
“Lennon, you have to shut up.” Noah looks toward the hallway just as Ellis appears.
“You guys coming?” I can tell by her annoyed expression that we are taking too long and already making it weird. Maybe she was right.
My eyes want to water at the idea of Ellis getting married. She’s always wanted a surprise engagement–something thoughtful and more private. In college, we’d talk about the what ifs and the maybe somedays. There’s no way I can tell her–it’ll ruin everything, and for some reason, in this moment, Noah trusts me.
“Yeah,” I say, forcing myself to appear normal and unfazed. “Yeah, we can grab the hot dogs and take them outside. I’m pretty sure there are enough skewers.”
I can’t look at her when I push past her, needing to gather myself and stop being such a hopeless romantic–a sensitive fucking baby.
“What did you tell her?” I hear Ellis ask Noah from behind me.
“That I don’t like football,” he says by way of answer before following us all to the kitchen.