Chapter Six Odette #2
“Holy shit, Noah . . .” I rush toward him, my hands cupping his face. He tries to pull away from my touch, but I don’t let him. “Stop moving.”
He does.
“I . . .” I wince as I take in the purple, black, and blue bruises under both of his eyes. “I can’t believe it’s that bad.”
“Yeah? I guess that’s what happens when you run nose-first into a door because someone was scared of a little spider that didn’t even exist.” His jaw tightens under my grasp.
I run my finger near the cut on the bridge, the one that’s still fresh looking, and he flinches like it hurts. Of course it hurts. It looks terrible.
“I’m sorry, Noah,” I say, tearing my gaze away from his wounds and looking into pools of brown. “So, so sorry.”
He says nothing, only stares.
We’re standing so close that his warm breath, which smells like apples, tickles my nose. So close that I feel each breath he takes, his chest brushing lightly against mine. So close that I realize just how gorgeous his brown eyes truly are.
No, not just brown. They’re more than that. They’re russet and cinnamon and chocolate and toffee. Swirls of various shades, darker on the edges and lighter toward the pupils, which are definitely dilated.
Then those same eyes drop lower, lower, lower . . . right to my lips.
I don’t know why I do it—maybe just to see his reaction—but I roll my tongue along them, even though they aren’t dry.
Noah tracks the movement with laser focus, like he’s scared that if he looks away, he’ll miss something.
So I do it again, and he watches me just as closely.
Then suddenly he’s not just watching closely—he’s getting closer.
I don’t move. I don’t know how to move. I don’t even know what’s happening.
Is Noah Stevens about to . . . kiss me? Am I about to let him?
Yes.
The thought filters through my mind effortlessly.
Yes, I would let Noah kiss me. Yes, I would kiss him back. Yes, it would probably completely rock my world. And yes, it would be a colossal mistake.
But I don’t care. I’ve wanted Noah to kiss me since I was sixteen and I realized that my feelings for him were not so innocent. I may have given up the idea of him doing it years ago, but it doesn’t mean I’m about to push him away now that it’s happening.
“What the hell?”
We spring apart like we’ve been caught doing something wrong and find Izzy standing at the back door, her hand over her mouth as she takes in Noah’s face.
“What happened to you? Did you get in a fight?”
Noah takes a few steps back, putting distance between us like we didn’t just almost lock lips.
Me? I’m busy looking anywhere but at my best friend as she comes barreling into the kitchen, her hands going to her brother’s face.
“What happened?” she asks again, worry lacing each word. “And don’t give me that same load of crap you gave Mom. You didn’t get something in your eye. This is way worse than that.”
I peek up at Noah just as he slides his eyes over to me.
Izzy doesn’t miss it.
“Wait . . . this happened when you worked on the barn, didn’t it?” Izzy gasps. “Oh my god, did you punch him, Odette?”
Before I can answer her, she’s hitting her brother, yelling, “What did you say to her? I swear I will beat your ass if you were being a jerk to my best friend!”
“I didn’t—hey! Watch the nuts, Iz!” Noah blocks her assault, covering his junk.
I’m only slightly ashamed to admit that my eyes follow right along with the gesture.
“Is this why you two are acting so weird tonight? Because you were being an ass to Odette?”
She noticed we’re acting weird? Shit. Did anyone else notice too?
I realize then that Izzy is still hitting him.
“Iz! Stop it!” I pull her off her brother, and she comes away kicking and screaming—literally. “Calm down.”
She shakes me off, brushing her hair out of her face. “I will not. Not until you tell me what happened.”
“First, I didn’t punch your brother.”
“Yes, because that’s what’s important and not the fact that I didn’t say a damn thing.”
I glower at Noah, who is still covering his nether regions. “You’d best keep that covered,” I warn him before turning back to Izzy. “He’s right, though. Noah’s been a perfect gentleman. It was an . . . accident.”
“An accident? That looks like a pretty brutal accident to me.”
“It felt brutal too.”
I wince, remembering the loud thud Noah’s nose made when he hit the door. I was certain Noah’s nose was broken, and I’d need to drive him to the hospital.
I still think he probably should have gone, but I assume he didn’t want to have to explain that to anyone, let alone his father.
“So what happened then?” Izzy asks.
“It’s a funny story really . . .”
Noah snorts at me. “Funny isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe it.”
I ignore him, then tell his sister what happened in the bathroom—from the lack of toilet paper to the spider ready to eat me to Noah slamming into the door.
By the time I’m finished, Izzy is staring at me. Not even blinking. Just watching.
“Iz?” I say.
Finally, she blinks.
Once. Twice.
Then she’s gone.
No, not gone. She’s just doubled over, clutching her stomach and laughing loudly.
“See? I told you it was funny,” I say to Noah, who shoots daggers at Izzy.
“It’s not funny,” he tells her, but it’s useless. She’s laughing too hard to hear him.
And Izzy’s laughter makes me laugh, too, making Noah angrier.
His lips pinch together. Wrinkles bracket each narrowed eye. And I swear the few gray hairs at his temples double in numbers.
“If you don’t stop laughing, I’m telling Mom it was you who scratched her Volvo and not a cart in the grocery store lot.”
That sobers Izzy up instantly.
I remember that summer. Noah was here during a hockey break, and he brought Chelsea with him.
She was driving Izzy bonkers with her nitpicking of everything Noah did, so Lydia let us take the Volvo to the market for some ice cream to get us out of the house.
When we got home, there was a giant scratch down the side of the vehicle, and we swore up and down that it was like that when we came out of the store, a cart not too far away.
Not that I would ever tell anyone this, because best friends don’t rat on each other, but it wasn’t a cart.
Izzy tried squeezing into a parking spot she couldn’t fit into, but she ran the car right alongside one of those yellow concrete poles, scraping the passenger door.
I guess Noah knew the truth all along.
She points at her brother. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me,” he counters, puffing his chest out.
It’s all so ridiculous, and I feel like I’m in high school all over again, especially the part where I just let myself get swept up in a fantasy about Noah Stevens kissing me.
I must have been imagining it. I had to have. No way was that going to happen.
“Okay, okay.” I step between them, holding my hands up. “You’re both done. You’re too old to run and tattle to your mother. Now let’s figure out how we’ll cover Noah’s face, since he clearly doesn’t want anyone asking questions, and his sunglasses broke.”
“Fine,” Izzy says, casting one last menacing look Noah’s way. “I have some sunglasses in my purse you can borrow. Come on.”
Noah follows Izzy out of the room, and I exhale heavily once they’re gone.
Not just because I no longer have to keep them from killing each other, but because I’m glad to be rid of Noah.
I can’t believe I actually thought he was going to kiss me. I can’t believe I would have let him.
And I can’t believe Izzy nearly caught us.
How terrible would that have been, especially when she made it clear she doesn’t want me dating her brother?
I mean, not that kissing him would mean dating him, but still.
I shake the thoughts away, grab the pitcher of Bellinis, and head back out onto the patio.
“Oh, Odette! We were just talking about you,” my mother says as I walk outside.
“You were?” I refill her glass, then Lydia’s. I leave mine untouched as I set the pitcher on the table and settle back into my chair. “Anything good?”
“That’s what we’re wondering. Are you bringing a date to Izzy’s wedding? If not, I think I have the perfect guy to set you up with. He’s a nurse at the hospital in Belleflower.”
It wouldn’t be the first time Lydia has tried to set me up with someone from our neighboring town’s hospital. And it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve turned her down.
“Thanks, Lydia. I appreciate the thought, but I don’t have time to date, what with planning the wedding and my maid of honor duties.” And avoiding the Chambers curse, though I don’t say that part out loud.
She nods like she understands, but it’s not her I’m paying attention to.
It’s the look in my mother’s eye that she’s always given me whenever I brush off dating.
Pity.
But she, twice divorced, understands better than anyone why I can’t date. She’s the same way I am. She’s also given up on love.
“I suppose that makes sense. Maybe you can get together with him sometime afterward? I’ll tell Brian to pass on your information.”
“I’ll do whatever she asks,” he says from the grill, lifting his tongs into the air like a salute of sorts.
I grin. If anyone would make me want to be in love again, it would be those two, but I know just how mean the Chambers curse can be, so I don’t.
I don’t want love. I just want to help others find their happily ever afters.
I might not get my own, but damn, it feels good to be part of someone else’s story .
. . even if things don’t always go the way I hope.
It’s still nice to bask in the happiness, if only for a short while.
A wave of worry hits me once again. Am I doing the right thing in helping Izzy with her wedding? The curse has already affected so many of my clients. Do I truly want to pass that bad juju on to my best friend?
Stop, Odette. It’s not the curse. It’s not you. Izzy will be fine.
I exhale a breath just as Izzy and Noah stumble back onto the deck, laughing like they weren’t just about to maim each other inside.
“Nice glasses,” Brian remarks to his son. He exchanges a glance with his wife. They say a lot without speaking a word, and again, I’m envious of them.
I push that feeling deep down, along with all the doubt clawing at me, sip on my Bellini, and spend the rest of the evening pretending that I didn’t want Noah Stevens to kiss me.