11. Eleven
Eleven
Lennon
I ’ve spent the better part of two days looking through paperwork, researching, and trying to set a timeline for when the bed-and-breakfast will open. I haven’t quit my job at the pediatric office, but I saved up some time to take while I was getting moved in and planning what came next. Renovating on a budget will be a challenge, but I’m sure I can find some thrifted pieces to help make the space look the way I’ve always dreamed about.
For now, I’ve decided not to stress about it. The place came with charm already, so there’s no point in worrying.
I tug on the door to the red barn behind the house, pulling until it slides open, revealing the dusty remnants of the previous tenants’ homesteading addiction. I heard they had chickens and a few goats–something that may be fun to bring back in, eventually.
In the meantime, I decide to check out the vintage bike I found when I was touring the place. Hopefully, it’s still tucked at the back of the barn on the ground floor beneath the hayloft, where a few bales from the previous owners remain. For the most part, the barn was used for storage, but the bike was relatively new.
I guess they didn’t want to take it with them.
I smile when I see the bike leaning against the wall exactly where it was before–in perfect condition. I’m meant to get coffee with Cass in an hour since she took today off–presumably to get an explanation of my frantic Facetime call three days ago.
I tug the handlebars and walk the bike into the light to give my assessment. The weather has shifted to second summer, apparently, and I’ve never been more pissed at the inconsistency of Ohio weather in September. I was hoping for sweaters and boots, not vintage jeans and a white crop top. The jeans happen to be my protest against the eighty-degree temperatures. It kind of ruins the fall vibe.
The tires look decent, and I test it out, deciding to shove the thing into the back of my car so I can go for a ride near the coffee shop–autumn dreams and trying to force the colder weather again.
More importantly, as I close the car door and get in the front seat, I’m trying not to think about last weekend, but I list off what happened, anyway.
Noah kissed me.
He told me we were just friends.
He watched movies with me all night.
And then I woke up with his raging hard-on pressed against my ass before continuing the morning by pretending it never happened.
My brows furrow when I pull into the parking lot and stop the car. I’ve never been more confused by a man’s behavior. And when I was testing out every dating app on the market earlier this year, I gained quite a bit of experience, so I would know.
Noah was very clear about his intentions of friendship, so I’m not really thinking, what does this mean? It means nothing and the chances that the kiss meant something to him?
Unlikely.
Plus, I don’t even like him. Or didn’t, rather.
I hop on the bike, circling the block a few times before parking it by the coffee shop door and heading inside. The familiar sounds and smells welcome me in as I spot Cass sitting at one of the small tables by the window. Her perfectly styled blonde hair hangs around her shoulders, and unlike me, Cass has fully dressed for the heat as if autumn didn’t exist. Between the sunglasses, the fitted brown tank, high-waisted white shorts, and accessories, she looks expensive.
I sometimes forget how Ellis and Cass met. It seems like she’s been a part of our friend group forever, and while I know Cass dated some insufferable rich man, I have trouble imagining it.
Being a weekday, the coffee shop feels nearly empty. I stand next to Cass’s table, smiling. “Long time no see,” I say, trying like hell to pretend I don’t have anything to fill her in on.
“Get your coffee, and then I need you to explain to me why you were at Noah’s.” For Cass, her tone is far too demanding. She’s usually the bubbly one–the sweet one.
“Damn, okay. What has gotten into you?” I ask.
She leans back, crossing her legs beneath the wooden table as she grips her coffee with ringed fingers. “I’m desperate for some kind of gossip. I’ve been working my ass off at the bar. Since you bought a house, I’m thinking about doing the same thing.” She waves a hand to shoo me away. “Now go.”
I order my chai latte and make my way back to the table, throwing my cross-body bag onto one of the extra chairs and sliding into position.
“So,” Cass begins, a wide smile on her face. “Noah?”
I laugh, suddenly embarrassed because here I am, explaining something I don’t fully understand myself. He’s so hot and cold. “It’s a long story,” I say.
Cass leans in, pulling her blonde strands of hair over one shoulder and acting as if we are about to share some kind of secret. She’s not wrong–maybe.
“Good thing I took today off,” she says.
I fill her in on the toilet, the bat, the ER, the kiss, the movie, the odd wake-up, and the way I haven’t heard from Noah since Sunday. And the whole time, Cass’s mouth hangs open as if every new revelation is a shock to her.
“Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?” I ask, eyes narrowed.
“No reason.” She brings her coffee to her lips, taking a sip and looking away as if she knows some secret.
I grimace. “It’s nothing. Noah doesn’t do relationships. I’m starting to think the man maintains about a million situationships at one time.”
Her blue eyes snap to mine. “And you’ve become one of them.”
“Like hell I have!” Or maybe I have; I’m not sure. “It’s not like I slept with him. Besides, the kiss was a one-time thing.”
Cass taps a red nail on the table’s wooden surface. The bell on the door rings as another customer walks in. “Remember that book you gave me last week? The really smutty one with the–”
“This is real life,” I say, knowing exactly where she’s going with this. I recall the book.
Mostly.
“Listen,” I start. “He has a great ass. He kisses like it’s an Olympic sport, and he happens to hold every gold medal ever. I’m attracted to him, but that’s temporary. We are friends .” Somehow, I don’t think she is convinced.
“Exactly. All I was saying,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Maybe you two should sleep together. Get some of the tension out of the way and–”
She stops talking abruptly, blue eyes going wide as they catch something by the front door.
“What?” I say before turning to find our topic of conversation strolling into the very same coffee shop and wearing one of his infamous pairs of slacks with a white button down. The sleeves are rolled to his elbows, and honestly, it’s kind of rude for him to be such a walking fucking thirst trap.
God. What was she saying about sleeping with him? I haven’t gone on a date since the fucker at the art show. The summer has been busy planning for this home purchase. A real dry spell.
“What a coincidence,” Cass says, a smile pulling at her mouth.
I watch Noah stride to the counter and blatantly flirt with the woman taking his order. He’s leaning toward her, throwing a wink in her direction and turning up the charm. Insufferable, actually. I can’t believe I had been warming up to him all weekend. He’s easy to like but definitely not someone to get involved with seriously.
I turn away.
Clearly, he didn’t see us.
Or did he?
I pretend it doesn’t feel like lead in my stomach. “Anyway,” I start. I slide my finger around the top of my coffee cup. “You’re taking extra hours at the bar to buy a house?”
Cass jumps at the conversation, explaining that she’s been feeling off since last year when her boyfriend cheated on her–thinking that it’s time to try something new.
“Hey.”
My eyes flick up and lock with Noah’s, not sure how to gauge this interaction.
I’m being fucking stupid thinking about it. Noah established that we are friends. We are friends.
I should stop pretending I didn’t enjoy his company. I did. I also enjoyed his tongue down my throat—an unfortunate complication, really.
I should just act exactly how I would in any other situation. Talk to him as if nothing happened.
“Hey, asshat.” Friendly.
One side of his mouth quirks up before he acknowledges Cass. “Hey, Cass.”
“Hi,” she squeaks.
I lean back, taking a long drag of coffee and hoping that Noah will fill the silence for me. I’ve never had trouble filling silence before.
“Got any more projects you need help with?” he asks.
I relax into my seat, setting my coffee on the table and chuckling. “Are you trying to befriend another bat?” I say, cocking an eyebrow in his direction.
The smile dances on his lips. “Possibly.”
When I look at Cass, I catch the curious expression on her face–the one that says she is thinking about something devious–something I don’t need to hear.
“So,” I say, trying to distract from Cass’s expression. “You’re coming to the bonfire this Saturday?”
Noah’s hand flexes around his cup of coffee. “Yes,” he answers.
We stare at each other. The silence that stretches between us feels loaded with memories of every interaction from this past weekend–every touch that was the very opposite of what friends would take part in. I think Noah feels it, too.
“I do have more projects if you’re interested.” I’m distracting from the obvious tension. For some reason, I can’t get enough of him. I’m coming to terms with the fact that there can’t be anything other than a casual relationship with Noah, but maybe Cass is right. We could get it out of our systems and then part ways. It would help the charged undertones.
“Is that so?” he says before rolling his tongue along his cheek. “What will I be learning to do this time?”
There’s a number of projects I could give him, so it’s easy to figure one out. “The porch could use some work.”
“At this point, I’m thinking I’ll just learn to build a house from the ground up. Tear down your little bed-and-breakfast in the making and build you a mansion instead.”
My stomach flips, which is exactly the opposite of what it should be doing, so I don’t acknowledge it. “Wow,” I say. “You find me repulsive, but for some reason, you’re willing to build me a whole mansion.”
His brow furrows. “I don’t find you repulsive, Lennon.”
Clearly . It would be hard to kiss the way he did if he thought so. My cheeks heat, and I’m all too aware of Cass’s eyes on us. She knows about the kiss. I suddenly feel like the word horny is tattooed on my head, and I’m embarrassed.
She clears her throat, and I’m forced to glance her way. By the look on her face, she’s plotting. I just know it.
Noah clears his throat, drawing my attention back to his brown eyes and the veins of his forearms taunting me in a way that is so female gaze I might pass out.
He shifts on his feet. “Text me what it is you’re wanting done. I’ll try to find some time between classes tomorrow.”
When he turns, heading out the glass doors and leaving me in the presence of Ohio’s most cut-throat detective, apparently.
“Okay,” Cass says, breaking the silence. “So, what’s actually going on?”
I lean back, casting my gaze up toward the ceiling as I sigh. “Fuck if I know, dude. Fuck if I know.”