Chapter Fifteen Noel
Chapter Fifteen
Noel
“Put that over there.”
“Here?” I move the vase of peonies to the wrong spot on purpose.
Parker laughs, which is exactly what I was going for.
To say she’s been stressed these last two weeks would be an understatement. I’ve tried to distract her the best I can with kisses and getting her naked as often as possible, but she’s still running on high alert thanks to juggling the theater renovation on her own—with Axel being out of commission—and this damn fundraiser we’re hosting tonight.
It’s Saturday, and we’re in the middle of decorating Bigfoot’s Hideaway for tonight’s second effort to raise funds for the theater reno. We knew going in that the bar-and-bowling-alley combo would require a miracle to make it look suitable for the event, but leave it to Parker to pull it off.
Sure, the dark log cabin–style walls are still lined with photos, mismatched bigfoot paraphernalia, and other random decor, but now it looks downright bright and cheery with all the balloons, flowers, white tablecloths, and signage we’ve hauled in here. Hell, she’s even swapped out the light bulbs to get rid of the yellowish hue this place always seems to have going on.
“Ha ha.” She pokes her tongue out. “You know I mean the table, not the stool. You’re lucky I like you.”
“It’s the sex, isn’t it?”
Her eyes widen, and she glances around the room, which is not as empty as she’d like if I’m going to be talking like that.
“ Noel. ” She says my name like a curse, poking me with the pen she’s wielding. “Stop it.”
“Why? Afraid someone’s going to get jealous?”
“Of me or you?” she challenges, and it feels like a trap.
“Both?”
She pats my chest. “Good answer.”
Phew.
She grabs the flowers I’ve placed on the stool and moves them to the center of the table, arranging them just so.
“There,” she says once she’s satisfied. “Much better.”
“You know, I think this deserves a test. Let’s not put flowers on a few tables and see if the teams without them lose or win.”
She rolls her eyes. “How about we don’t?”
“Or we could just get rid of them entirely. Besides, it’s one less thing I have to throw off the table when I ravage you on top of it later.”
“Noel!” she hisses for the second time, and I can’t help but grin.
God, I love messing with her.
Well, I’m not entirely messing with her. If we’re left to cleanup duty again, that is so happening.
“You’re impossible, you know that?” she whispers, her eyes still darting around to see if anyone is paying attention.
They aren’t.
Fran is busy bringing in the extra chairs and tables, Astrid and Clifford are off flirting in the opposite corner, and Garth, the owner, is perfecting the audio system in the bowling alley so everyone can hear the door prizes we’re offering throughout the night, an idea Gran had that we rolled with at the last minute. We reel them in with the promised trivia and bowling, then get them to stay and spend more money by offering up raffle tickets for cheap prizes and donated gift cards from local businesses. It’s a win all around.
Nobody cares what we’re doing, so I can do whatever I want.
So, I do.
I grab her waist, tugging her to me, and she comes effortlessly, falling against me like it’s second nature.
“Hi.” I smile down at her.
Her eyes sparkle with giddiness. “Hi.”
“Whatcha doing after this?”
“Uh, going home to change into ... well, not paint-stained overalls?”
“Can I watch?”
She laughs. “Again, impossible.”
“Am not. I’m perfectly possible. I just know what I like.”
“Yeah, and what’s that?”
“You.”
Her eyes widen, and I can’t help myself—I kiss her.
She pauses for only a moment, then she’s melting into me.
I guess she doesn’t care about everyone else being here as much as she says.
She fists her hands in my shirt, tugging me closer, and I lose myself in her. The way she fits against me, the way she always smells like peppermint, the way she feels, the way she tastes.
I’m gone for Parker Pruitt, and I don’t give a shit who knows it.
“All right, you two. Break it up,” Astrid says, but the love in her voice is evident. “We’re supposed to be working. We have four hours until the fundraiser starts.”
That gets Parker to pull away.
She tries to wiggle out of my embrace, but I don’t let her, even though all eyes are on us at this point.
She grins up at me. “See what you started? Now they all know.”
“So? Does that bother you?”
“No.”
“Parker . . .”
“Fine.” She sighs. “Sort of. It’s just ... This town likes to talk, you know?”
There’s worry in her eyes, and I’m not entirely surprised by it, given her comments on how she feels about my Hollywood lifestyle and fame and how it would bother her to have everyone in her business.
“And you don’t want them talking about us,” I guess, and she nods. “I could have my agent step in and shut down whatever trash the Gazette might try to print.”
“I appreciate it, but I don’t want it to come to that. I just ...” Another sigh. “I don’t know what I want.”
“Other than me?”
“Other than you, Noel.”
She pushes to her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine. This time, the kiss is brief and over far too soon for my liking, and when she pulls away, I let her go.
Two hours later, we’re ready to call it a day so we can get ready before the event in T-minus two hours.
“Wow, Parker. It looks great in here,” Garth says as he takes it all in. “I can’t believe it’s the same place.”
“I do what I can.” She grins at him. “You’ll be ready to go at seven?”
“Yep. I got my team prepping everything in the kitchen. We got sliders, jojos, wings, and chili-cheese fries on the menu for the evening. They’re our bestsellers, so we should bring in a lot of money for the theater, even with them on sale.”
“Oh man. I haven’t had jojos in far too long. I tried ordering them when I first got to LA, and they looked at me funny, then brought me a plate of potato wedges. Just regular potatoes, sliced up. No breading, no spices, and they weren’t even orange. Definitely not fried like they should be either.”
Parker gasps. “That’s insulting! They’re totally different!”
“I know.”
She shakes her head, then looks to Garth. “And the booze?”
“Pints are three bucks, pitchers are sixteen, and bottle buckets are twenty.”
“Mixed drinks?”
He smiles. “Don’t worry, I have your whiskey sours on sale tonight.”
He winks at her, she blushes, and I fucking hate it.
I step forward, wrap my arm around her, and tug her close.
There’s no mistaking what I’m doing, and Garth tracks every move I make. His eyes widen slightly, then he meets my hard stare and it becomes clear.
Mine, the gesture says.
He nods subtly in understanding.
Parker leans into me, completely oblivious to what’s happening.
“I got a little drunk one time ,” she tells him.
“One time a month, maybe. You and Axel have too much fun in here sometimes.”
She wrinkles her nose. “We do, huh?”
“Oh, you definitely do. Anyway, I still have lots to do before we open, and I’d better help my staff prep. See you at six thirty?”
“On the dot,” Parker promises him, then looks up at me. “I’m going to go tell my mom bye.”
“I’ll be here.”
Once she’s gone, Garth steps forward, holding his hand out to me. I accept it.
“I didn’t know you two were together. I guess I should have, though.” He laughs.
“Why is that?”
He tips his head to the side. “Come on, man, like you and Parker haven’t always been inevitable. When I heard you were coming back, I had a feeling you’d end up together again.”
“Again?”
He glances over at Parker, who is chatting with her mother.
“When she gets drunk, she talks a lot. She mentioned what happened before you left and how you were sort of together then. She rambles about it sometimes and how she wishes she would have said yes, whatever that means.”
His words stun me.
Parker regrets not saying yes? Does that mean ... Does she regret not going to LA with me?
I don’t know how I feel about that. Of course I wanted Parker there with me. More than fucking anything else. And I’ve hated not talking to her for the last ten years.
But seeing how everything else has worked out, it’s hard for me to wish we could change the past.
She has an incredible career. I’m not sure she’d have it if she hadn’t turned me down, and I don’t want to erase that for her.
“Sorry, it’s none of my business. It’s just us bartenders, you know. We hear stuff.”
I nod. “Yeah, no. I get that.”
“And really, you have nothing to worry about with me. I know love when I see it, and I’m not about to try to step in the middle of that.”
My territorial moment aside, I wasn’t worried, but I appreciate his words all the same.
“You ready?” Parker asks, bouncing on her heels back our way.
“Yep,” I answer. “Let’s go.”
We say our goodbyes to Garth, then make our way out into the sunshine. Parker and I walk hand in hand down Borgen, and she only blushes a little when people stare or take notice of our touching, but she doesn’t pull away. I like that she doesn’t pull away. Probably a little too much.
“So,” I say after passing The Chilly Cow, our frozen yogurt shop that I used to spend far too much time at. “Garth said you talk about me sometimes.”
“Garth is a liar. Ignore him.”
I laugh because I know he wasn’t lying. “Bartenders never lie.”
“Sure they do. They always lie when they say they’re going to pour you a double. They add extra ice, the same amount of alcohol, and still charge you double.”
“All right, I’ll give you that one. But I don’t think Garth was lying. Was he?”
She doesn’t say anything for several moments, and it’s all the confirmation I need.
“Axel and I used to hang out there often, especially before the triplets came along. It’s where we became friends, actually. You were gone, and I was bored, so I went into the bowling alley one day, and there Axel was. He was sitting alone, looking as sullen and grumpy as I felt, with a basket of chili-cheese fries in front of him. We made eye contact but didn’t speak as I rented a lane. I could feel his eyes on me the whole time I was bowling. So finally, after about my fourth gutter ball, I smiled and waved at him. He scowled and looked away, and I laughed. It was the first time I had laughed since you left, and it felt so good that I wanted it to happen again.”
Fuck. The thought of her being so upset that she couldn’t laugh is ... well, it’s fucking heartbreaking. It eats me up inside that she was feeling like that and I wasn’t here. I hate myself for it.
“I went back in the next day, and there he was again,” she continues. “The same table, a new basket of fries. So I rented another lane, took my Coke and old shoes, and sat across the way from him. Again, he stared, and again, I waved. That went on for a week, and as weird as it sounds, it felt nice to have something to look forward to, even if it did mean I was getting glared at while throwing an embarrassing number of gutter balls.”
“How’d you two become friends then?”
She laughs lightly. “I got tired of it. One day, when he looked over at me, I flipped him off instead of waving.”
I laugh because I can’t imagine Parker doing anything like that. “You did not.”
“I did too. And Axel had the same reaction you did. He laughed. It was so sudden it surprised him, and I knew immediately that he was broken like I was. His parents were going through a divorce, and all his friends had just moved away for college. He was alone. I was alone. So, we decided to be alone together. We’ve been best friends since.”
I wait for the jealousy to hit over her calling Axel her best friend, but it doesn’t come.
He’s been there for her so much over the years, showing up for her, cheering her on, and, hell, he’s even her business partner.
He is her best friend, and I’m finally okay with that.
No. The only thing that comes is heartache.
Broken.
Is that really how she felt? Like I broke her by leaving? It hurts, and that guilt I’ve felt all these years seeps back in.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, squeezing her hand as we turn into her driveway. “I’m sorry you had to go through that alone. I’m sorry that I left.”
“Don’t be. I mean, there have been plenty of times over the years when I’ve not liked you, but you’re here now, you know? That’s what matters, right?”
I swallow. “Right.”
I am here now. Only for a few more weeks, but I’m here.
Yet I can’t help but wonder ... What happens when I leave? What happens to us ? Will Parker stop talking to me again? Is it going to break her heart like it did before? Garth said she regrets not saying yes back then. If I were to ask now, what would she say? Would she turn me down, or would she go with me?
I’m too fucking scared to ask because I have a feeling I know exactly what her answer would be, and it’s not the answer I want.
I want Parker to come with me. I want to show her my life in LA. I want to be with her—and not just for six weeks tucked away here in the Pacific Northwest. I want her all the time. In my bed, in my house, in my life.
I just want her .
But I know that’s a tall ask. She has a life here. A career. The theater. Asking her to leave it all behind would be selfish, and I don’t want to be selfish with her.
“Want to come inside?” she asks as we ascend the stairs to her front door.
More than she knows, but instead, I say, “How about I meet you at Bigfoot’s later?”
She frowns, and I can tell she’s sad I’m not coming inside to have my way with her.
I laugh. “I’ve got plans with Gran,” I explain.
She sighs. “Fine. I’ll allow it. But only because I think it’s sweet that you’re a total grandma’s boy.”
I press a kiss on her cheek. “Go inside before I change my mind.”
“I’m going, I’m going.”
She waves as she closes the door, and I jam my hands into my pockets as I make my way back down her driveway and turn onto Borgen to head to the other side of town.
Shops are starting to close early, and several are even posting signs on their doors pointing potential customers to the fundraiser.
My heart swells every time I read one. The town is rallying behind Parker with such force. They love her, and if there’s one thing she’s made clear over the years, it’s that she loves them too.
It’s just another reason I can’t ask her to leave. She belongs here. These are her people. This is her home.
My phone buzzes against my leg, saving me from the spiral I’m on.
My relief is brief when I realize it’s my agent for the third time in two days.
Aaron: Did you get a chance to read that script?
I groan. Is he really bothering me about this again?
Me: Not yet. Been busy.
Aaron: Read it. I think you’re going to love it.
Me: I said I didn’t want to do superhero stuff.
Aaron: I know, I know, but this is a huge opportunity. I think you’d regret passing it up.
Aaron: Besides, you owe me. I got you these six weeks off and have been keeping the press off your trail so you can enjoy your little vacation, right?
He’s got me there. I know he worked some magic to reschedule things to keep me in Washington for these six weeks, but the second my time here is up, it’s back to the grind. I’m flying to LA for just two nights, then I’m going to New York for a talk show run that will last another week.
He’s saving my ass. I guess the least I can do is read the script.
Me: Fine. I’ll let you know on Wednesday.
Aaron: Make it Monday. The studio is on my ass. They want you big-time.
I groan, grinding my teeth together.
Me: I have shit I’m doing this weekend.
Aaron: Well, then, make it work. They aren’t going to sit around and wait on us forever. They need an answer soon.
I know he’s right on all fronts.
Sure, I might not want to do the movie, but the least I can do is play nice with the studio, or else they might stop knocking at my door.
Me: All right, all right. Monday.
Aaron: Thank you.
Aaron: Oh, and I have a slight change of plans. You’ll be in LA for just one night, and I need you in New York a night early. I got you an invite to the premiere of Jasper Rafferty’s new film.
Aaron: I’ll have Vince send you all the details.
Aaron: Talk Monday.
He’s not giving me an option, and he’s not asking if this is something I want to do. He’s just informing me that I’ll be there.
I love acting, but I could really do without all the extra shit that goes along with it sometimes.
I tuck my phone back into my pocket as I walk up Gran’s porch. I sneak inside quietly, knowing she’s taking a nap to “stay up and party with the young’uns,” as she told me this morning. I’ve been instructed to wake her at six to walk over to Bigfoot’s.
I check the clock hanging on the living room wall. I still have an hour to kill before I need to wake her.
I shuffle into my room with a sigh and then settle onto my bed. I grab my laptop from my nightstand and pull up the script I’ve ignored for the last week.
I guess now is as good a time as any to start it.
“You know these old bones don’t move as fast as they used to, right?”
“I know.” I slow my gait. “I’m sorry. It’s just that we’re late, and I know Parker won’t be happy.”
“Bah.” Gran waves her hand. “She’ll be fine. She knows I’m poky. We walk around town at least once a week, which takes us forever. She’s used to it.”
I love that even though Parker and I had a falling-out, she never stopped including my gran in her life.
It’s just another reason to admire her and why I hate that I’m letting her down by being late for something that means so much to her.
I’ll admit it—I don’t hate the script as much as I thought I would. In fact, I love it. It’s more than just a superhero movie packed with action and CGI. There’s true heart there, and it’s something I’d be proud to be part of. I got so wrapped up in the story I forgot to wake Gran, and she had to be the one to come get me just as I was sending off an email to Aaron, letting him know I was open to a conversation with the studio.
The parking lot of Bigfoot’s comes into view, and it’s clear this event is already going well—and we’re just fifteen minutes into it.
I curse myself for the umpteenth time for being late. I should have been here on time. This event is important to Parker, which makes it important to me. Though I’m sure Gran is right and Parker won’t be upset that I’m late, I’m still eager to get inside, and the old woman next to me doesn’t miss it.
“Go on ahead. I’ll catch up, bub.”
I shake my head. “Like I told you three times at home, I’m not leaving you.”
Gran huffs. “So stubborn.”
Music and laughter filter out as we shuffle up to the front door.
“After you, ma’am,” I say, letting her pass.
“Call me ma’am one more time,” she warns, and I laugh.
We walk inside, and my mouth drops open.
“This is . . .”
I don’t have the words for it. There are people everywhere. Every trivia table is full, there’s hardly any standing room at the bar, servers are buzzing back and forth, and Garth is popping top after top from beer bottles. One peek into the bowling side tells me it’s just as busy.
“She’s amazing, huh?” Gran grins as she takes in the scene before us. “I’ve never seen this place so busy before, and that’s saying something because I’ve lived here forever.”
“It’s incredible.”
“Where’s Parker?” Gran asks, craning her neck to try to find my girl.
Just when I’m about to give up and park Gran near the bar so I can look for her, I spot her.
She’s in the bowling alley, and her arms are raised as she does a little dance. Astrid high-fives her, then sticks her tongue out at Axel, who looks as grumpy as ever.
Parker looks so happy and at ease. She’s in her element.
It’s just another reminder of how much she belongs here, how perfectly she fits into every little space in this town.
As if she can feel my eyes on her, she glances my way, and her smile grows even wider.
She waves me over, but I point to the bar.
Whiskey sour? I mouth.
She nods enthusiastically, and I laugh. It’s clear from the glassy look in her eyes that she’s already had one, maybe even two.
“I’m grabbing a drink, Gran. Want anything?”
“A whiskey neat, please.”
“You got it. Meet you over there.”
“And some jojos!” she calls after me, and I nod to let her know I heard her.
When I approach the bar, Garth dips his head at me, and I relax against it, knowing it’ll be a minute before he gets to me.
I look back at the crowd, still in awe of what Parker has accomplished.
I shouldn’t be surprised. She used to run the set design team like a champion too.
“This is an impressive turnout.”
I grit my teeth and look to my right. “Figs.”
“It’s Leonard,” he tells me with a sneer.
I ignore him. “I’m surprised to see you here. Even more surprised you’re praising Parker’s efforts.”
“I don’t dislike Parker if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“I don’t. I just don’t like that this town is wasting its time and money on something so ... so ... so asinine.”
“You don’t like theater?”
“I don’t believe it’s something this town needs. The Goodman Theater never sold out a show in its existence. Aren’t there far better things we could build on the land that would bring revenue to this town?”
“Sure, but this town does well enough on its own. Can’t we have something fun?”
“We can, but it shouldn’t start with that silly little project your girlfriend is working on.”
“It’s not silly.”
He snorts. “It is. And it’s going to fail. Mark my words.”
I push off the bar to my full height and step toward him. “It won’t fail.”
“You would say that. After all, it’s named after you.”
“It won’t fail,” I repeat slowly this time, so maybe he gets it.
“That’s what Parker claims too. She’s just too—”
“If I were you, I would choose my next words very carefully, Figs .” Another step, so close I can smell his aftershave. “Because if you so much as utter one more bad word about Parker, I’m going to make sure you never write another article in this town again.”
“You don’t have that power.”
“Oh, I don’t? Try me, then.”
He gulps loudly, blinking up at me. “I—I—I ...” He puffs his chest out. “You can’t stop me from reporting the truth, Noel. The Gazette helps this community.”
“The Gazette is one step above a trash magazine you ignore at the grocery checkout. You know it, and so does everyone else.”
He glares at me, and it’s the least scary thing I’ve ever seen. “It’s better than that theater.”
“Yeah? Well, we’ll see about that when the project gets fully funded, sells out crowds, and thrives no thanks to your shitty little paper.” I take another step toward him. “Now get the fuck out of here before I throw you out myself.”
He huffs but hurries through the crowd, and I watch him all the way to the exit.
“Thank god you said something,” Garth says. He stares after where Figgins just pushed through the doors. “I never liked that guy. He’s always causing trouble.”
“Too much of it, if you ask me.”
Garth shakes his head. “Anyway, you need a drink?” I nod. “Let me guess: A whiskey neat for Gran with some jojos and a whiskey sour for Parker?”
I laugh. “Are my women that predictable?”
“Considering they’re in here at least once a week and never order anything else, I’d say yes. What can I get for you?”
“Gimme your best scotch.”
“Neat like your gran?”
“Of course.”
He taps the bar twice, then moves away to make our drinks.
I turn back to the crowd, watching the people of Emerald Grove look like they’re having the best night of their lives.
Fuck Figgins and his articles. I don’t care what he says. This event—and the whole theater project, for that matter—is great for the town. It’s exactly what we need.
Garth reappears, setting the three drinks before me, and promises to send the jojos over once they’re ready.
I try to hand him my card, but he waves me off.
“No. All your shit is on the house tonight.”
I ignore him, pulling my wallet from my back pocket and tossing a hundred on the counter anyway. “It’s for a good cause.”
I balance the drinks, something I learned from the few months I worked at a restaurant when I first moved to LA, then head for the bowling alley.
The lanes are jam-packed, kids are running loose everywhere, and the noise level is at an all-time high.
I hand Gran her neat whiskey, then claim a stool. Axel nods at me from where he’s sitting, and I nod back. We aren’t going to be best friends anytime soon, but it’s progress.
“You going to bowl, Gran?”
She snorts. “With these hips? Not again in this lifetime.”
I frown. I hate that she can’t do the things she once loved, but I guess that’s part of getting older. You learn to adapt or find new things to keep you occupied.
Parker grabs a ball and walks to the end of the lane. She peeks over her shoulder, a playful spark in her eye, then shimmies forward. Another foot. And another.
Soon, she’s halfway down the lane. She squats and then drops the ball, letting it roll slowly toward the pins.
“Cheater Peter!” I yell, but it’s pointless.
They all fall, and she turns, throwing her arms into the air.
“I won! I won!” she chants as she races forward and launches herself at me.
I catch her easily, wrapping my arms around her waist desperately like I didn’t just see her a few hours ago.
She grins up at me. “You made it.”
I wince. “I’m sorry I’m late. I was reading.”
“Reading?” She gasps. “Were you reading romance novels? Because I read those sometimes. The kissing ones are my favorite.”
“Just kissing?”
“Oh no. I like it when they bang too. That’s really my favorite part.”
I laugh. Oh yeah, she’s definitely tipsy already. “Good to know. Though I am sorry to burst your bubble, it wasn’t a romance novel. It was a script.”
“Apparently, it’s a good one too. He forgot to wake me up,” Gran complains, sipping her drink.
“Ah, right.” Parker nods. “Sometimes I forget you’re a movie star.”
Sometimes I forget, too, especially lately. Being back in your hometown will do that, I guess. Nothing humbles you more than the people who knew you before.
I won’t lie, a part of me has missed it. I’ve missed being just Noel , which is how everyone here treats me—like I’m the same kid they’ve known since I was a toddler. While I miss LA and my friends, it’s a nice break to turn off the movie star side of me and be regular Noel again.
“You’re still just the boy I fell in love with.”
My heart thunders in my chest.
“Is that right?” I ask her, tugging her closer.
Her grin stretches wider. “That’s right.”
“How many drinks have you had?”
“Just the one. Plus one more. So that’s two. But now that you’ve brought me one, it’ll be three.”
“That’s some good math. Mrs. Kohlson would be proud.”
“She’s here. I should go tell her. Then maybe shake her down for a few bucks for the event.” She pulls away to do just that, but I stop her, dragging her back to me.
“How about we get you a water, then we’ll go shake down our sixth-grade math teacher?”
“Fine.” She huffs. “But you have to bowl with me too.”
“I think I can arrange that.”
By the night’s end, we’ve officially put a $35,000 dent in the renovation fund, and Parker is drunk.
She had a glass of water, beat me at bowling, and snuck two more whiskey sours.
After all the work she’s been putting in, she deserves to let loose. Even if it does mean I have to piggyback her into her house.
“You know, you should really lock your door,” I tell her as I step inside without a key.
“Why? Are you planning on breaking in?” she counters.
I laugh at her absurdity, then move to drop her onto the couch.
“No, no, no!” she protests, clinging to me so tight I can barely breathe.
“Choking. Me.”
She loosens her grip, and I suck in a gulp of air.
“Oops. My bad.” She giggles. “Just not the couch. I’ll fall asleep.”
“That’s kind of the idea. You’re drunk.”
“I am not.”
“You are, and it’s adorable.”
“Aw, you like me.” She nuzzles her nose against my neck.
She has no idea.
“I like you too,” she says, kicking at my sides like a horse. “To my bedroom!”
I laugh at her, carrying her back to her room as requested.
I deposit her onto the bed, snuggling back against her.
“I think this is where I’ll sleep tonight.”
“Yes. Don’t go,” she says, gripping me tighter so I can’t move. “Stay here forever. Stay in Emerald Grove forever.”
Her request hits me right in the chest. I know she’s being playful, but what if she’s serious too? What if she does want me to stay? Could I do it? Could I stay for her?
A part of me thinks I could, but I can’t gamble on a maybe—not when it comes to Parker.
I push from the bed, my thoughts racing too much to stay still. I need to take a walk. Need to clear my head.
“Hey!” She pouts, sitting up. “Where are you going? Aren’t you going to ravage me like you promised earlier?”
I laugh. “When you’re drunk? Absolutely not.”
“Boo.”
I lean forward and kiss the top of her head. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Why are you asking me that like you’re leaving?”
“Uh, because I am?”
“What? No. Stay,” she begs. “I want that amazing breakfast you allegedly make in the morning.”
“Even if it means I’m not going to ravage you?”
“Yes. I like sleeping next to you.”
I like sleeping next to her too.
“Fine. But I get to be the big spoon.”
“Well, duh. I’m not the big spoon. That’s weird.” She lifts her arms in the air. “Help.”
I grab her shirt by the hem, pull it over her head, and toss it aside. “Pants too?”
“Yes. I’m not sleeping in jeans. You’re so weird tonight.”
I barely hold back my laughter at her annoyance at my questions as she lies back down. I pull off her shoes and socks, then unsnap her jeans and work them down her legs.
I crawl on top of her. “Better?”
“Much. But now I have to pee.”
I laugh. “Do you need help with that too?”
“I think I can manage.”
I roll off her, ensuring she gets to the bathroom okay before I take off my jeans and T-shirt and crawl under the covers.
She returns a few moments later wearing an oversize T-shirt, and I recognize it instantly—it’s mine from when she stayed over at Gran’s. She must have snuck it home, and I didn’t notice.
Her hair is wild from her drunken adventure tonight, her makeup a little messy, and her eyes are glassy and tired. She looks as gorgeous in my T-shirt now as she did that night, and I wish she weren’t drunk so I could ravage her as I promised.
She climbs into bed next to me, and I lift my arm. She snuggles against me like it’s something we’ve rehearsed, and I pull her even closer until she’s practically lying on top of me. It takes all of a minute until she’s already snoring lightly.
I chuckle, then kiss her head. “Good night, my little drunk.”
“Hmm.” She rubs her cheek against me. “Night, Noel. I love you.”
She’s half-asleep, but there’s no mistaking the words she just said.
I love you.
It’s the second time she’s used the L-word with me tonight, and the second time there’s a pull at my chest.
Parker Pruitt loves me.
And fuck if I don’t love her too.
Part of me always has, but not like this.
This love ... It’s different. Even different from when we were teens.
It’s the kind of love that simmers for years. The kind that eats at you just a little every day, burrows its way into your heart and plants itself, a seedling that gets watered just enough to keep it alive. Then, one day, it blooms, and it’s bigger than you ever expected.
I love Parker. I have loved Parker. And no matter the time, distance, or status of our relationship, I always will love Parker.
“I love you, too, Peter,” I tell her, holding her closer as her snores fill the room.
I just hope we can make this thing work when push comes to shove.
I really don’t want to lose my best friend again.