Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Eva
Returning home after Sunday night’s dinner, I collapse on my bed, feeling nothing but pure joy and ecstasy.
I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.
Actually, I’m probably happier than I have ever felt ever.
I can’t wait until next Friday and find myself giggling over the thought of it while I shower and get ready for bed.
I imagine every possible way Noah might plan our first date. Our first date. The phrase itself makes it impossible to wipe the silliest grin off my face.
We quickly managed to exchange phone numbers before the night was over while Rex was shouting obnoxiously for Noah to drive him home, and now I find myself staring at my phone, wondering if I should text or call him first. I don’t want to seem too excited.
When he had asked me out, I was bold, almost egging him on to do it.
As I sit cross-legged and stare at the phone in the middle of my lap on my bed, I quickly decide to wait him out in order to see how eager he really is to see me again.
No one ever wants to be that girl. The overly needy one. I’m all for expressing my feelings, but not for seeming too desperate. Picking up the phone, I almost cave, but then decide to stand my ground as I set the phone on my nightstand and crawl under the covers.
On Monday, my week starts off slow. Work at the paper is tedious and uneventful.
I find myself sending off emails and contacting people to form the same stories that typically run every week this time of year.
I despise writing about upcoming events that the paper always covers.
Searching my brain, I try to find something new to add to this edition that will intrigue the readers that doesn’t sound like the crap we did last year, or the year before that.
I decide to write about Gatsby’s. I’ve already contacted the editor at the Auburn Journal and got his approval that he’ll run the set of stories as well.
With most of the other towns close by, there are plenty of locals that would be interested in attending Gatsby’s events.
Michael comes in Tuesday to give me the details.
He never lets Rex handle any publicity for the club, and I can’t say I blame him.
When Wednesday rolls around, I’m still surprised not to have heard from Noah.
A funk settles over me as I get to work and turn on my computer.
It’s a funk not even a third cup of coffee and blaring rap music on the way to work will cure.
The feeling has me slightly jaded, and I realize I might need to scale back my feelings because I’m totally starting to think he is not as into me as I am into him.
Around noon, I’m feeling worse and find myself staring blankly at my screen.
I’ve been stuck on the same article for an hour and a half.
I’ve been alternating between staring at the facts I had scribbled down, and staring at my computer screen, then getting up for a drink, or to use the restroom.
Now I’m back to staring at the computer screen, and glancing at my phone.
I push the center button for the third time in one minute to make sure I didn’t miss a call or text, although I already know I haven’t.
My office phone rings. Turning to look at who’s calling, I smile as I quickly recognize the number on the ID. This call might just be enough to break through the thick cloud that hovers over my thoughts.
“What’s going on, lady?” I say, picking up the receiver.
“I’ve been driving since 4:00 a.m. and I’m telling you, every time I make this damn drive, I swear it will be my last. Next year I’m flying, or I’m never coming home again,” Gwen shouts into my ear over the sound of big rigs as she flies down the five freeway.
She curses at one of them before I faintly hear her car accelerate.
“You’re coming home?” I ask, shocked. “You’re not supposed to be coming home until Christmas.”
“Plans changed. My mom and dad are being ridiculous, they say I never visit.” Gwen lets out an irritated sigh on the other end of the line.
“I had the time to take, so I took it. I’m staying with you, though, because after the last visit, if my mother and I spend longer than a few hours together, I swear someone will call the cops! ”
I laugh because sadly her statement is very true.
When first reunited, Gwen and her mother act like long-lost friends.
As time progresses, though, and more wine is poured, the two proceed to tear each other apart.
Last time, I had to intervene and restrain Gwen from grabbing one of her mother’s expensive vases and hurling it across the room at her.
Gwen’s mother is Irish, and her father is Italian. The combination does absolutely nothing to calm the fight that’s so naturally embedded on both sides of their genetic pool.
“Where are you at? Are you close to town?” I ask.
Having her here is sure to help me get my mind off of the one person I can’t stop thinking about. She might be able to lend some good advice too, seeing as I am starting to think everything I was sure about when it came to Noah might not be the way I believed it was after all.
“I think I’m going to take the rest of the afternoon off and just work from home tonight,” I say. “My head is so not into it today.”
“What’s the matter? Is your editor climbing up your ass again?” Gwen asks.
My editor is the definition of annoying, and is almost identical to the boss from Office Space.
He throws work at me constantly, and gets on my case for everything and anything.
If it wasn’t for my love of what I do, I would have quit a long time ago.
He’s a micromanaging, nitpicking, ready to throw you under the bus any time just to make himself shine, type of boss.
“Gwen, I’m not inclined to let anyone climb up my ass, ever. It’s a long story, I’ll explain it later.”
“Well, I’m about an hour out. I’ll meet you at your place, and we’ll drink wine and talk about whatever it is that has you all oppressed and melancholy.”
“I do declare, those are some big words coming from you, Gwen,” I laugh.
“Hey, I went to college,” she says. “But, if you’d rather, we can ignore it all and keep throwing glasses back until we are dancing on the dining room table. You know I’m down for anything. Now finish the fuck up and get your ass home.”
“That’s more like it,” I chuckle. “I’ll meet you at my place.”
“Warm that damn place up before I get there, too. Your place might be fabulously chic, but damn if it doesn’t feel like the Antarctic in the winter and the Mojave Desert in summer.”
With that, Gwen hangs up and I start contriving a plan for my best excuse in order to get out of the office.
Normally, I would claim an assignment and just take extra time off, then make up for it later in the week. But, I had already done that last week with my trip south. I managed to do some work on the road, but I know the boss won’t be too happy with me leaving again.
Leaning back in my chair, I glance at my editor’s office and notice he has already left. It has to be either an early lunch day or an assignment he’s working on, too. Whatever it is, it’s the perfect opportunity to escape.
Hurrying, I shut down my computer, stash my notes in my oversized purse, and grab the few things I toted into work that morning. I’ll think up an excuse later. Gwen’s always full of great excuses. I have definitely taken advantage of using her expertise for the perfect alibi in the past.
On my way home, I stop at a local store and grab wine and snacks. If there’s one thing bigger than my friend’s drinking ability, it’s her appetite. Though I don’t know where she puts it. She’s a gorgeous redhead blessed with some amazing features that make many women jealous.
Hurrying through the local store, grabbing the perfect extras I need for the girls’ night ahead, I quickly check out and return to my car eager to head home.
Gwen’s distraction is, in fact, putting me in a better mood.
I have almost forgotten about Noah and how he hasn’t even called. Almost being the key word.
As I round the corner to my street, my phone beeps in my center console. I glance at the screen and see it’s a message from Rex. When I slow down at a stop sign, I pick up the phone and try to read the text before I accelerate once again.
Rex: Next time you give a guy your number, make sure you give him the right one. Noah’s been trying to call you all week.
My heart drops. How could I have done such a thing.
Did I really enter the number wrong when he handed me his phone?
I’ve never done something like this before, but maybe the pure excitement of the situation clouded my thoughts somehow, making it easy to stumble over my fingers.
Whatever the reason, panic builds as I worry he’ll think I did it intentionally.
As I pull away from the stop sign, I scroll through my phone and find Noah’s name.
The phone starts ringing as I pull up in front of my house.
I hold my breath. After the first ring, my heart starts to beat faster.
With the second ring, my throat grows dry.
When it rings the third time, I swear I’m going to voicemail and my heart sinks.
Then he picks up, and I have to remind myself to keep breathing.
Slightly irritated, he says, “This is Noah.”
“Noah! It’s Eva.” My voice shakes. I clear my throat, trying to buy time to settle my nerves. He remains silent and my nerves grow. “I’m so sorry I gave you the wrong number Sunday.”
I wait for a response, but there isn’t one, just more silence. This is going worse than I thought. I wouldn’t be surprised if maybe he hangs up on me. Stepping out of my car and grabbing my purse, I decide to come back later for the groceries.
“I must have accidentally hit the wrong buttons. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose. I’ve actually been waiting, hoping you’d call all week. I didn’t want to reach out to you first. I mean, it’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s more that I didn’t want you thinking I was too forward.”
I lock my car and grab the handle, jerking it twice to make sure it’s secure.
Worried he’s hung up, I ask, “Are you still there?”
I start walking towards my house and am taken aback to see Noah standing on my front porch. I stumble through my next few steps. My gaze locks on his hands. Three single-stemmed roses are clutched in one, in his other he’s holding his phone up to his ear.
He doesn’t hang up. He doesn’t move any closer. After a moment, he smiles.
“You’re fucking adorable when you’re flustered!”
He ends the call and starts to close the distance between us.
With each step he takes, my body’s temperature rises.
Breathing. Breathing would be a good thing right now.
Would it look ridiculous if I started fanning myself?
Yeah, it would look. Taking a deep breath, I watch with anticipation as he comes closer.
“How did you know where to find me?” I ask eventually, returning my phone to my purse.
The three days apart have done nothing to lessen the effect he’s had on me. It’s only the opposite, in fact.
My heart beats faster, making me dizzy, as I take in his fitted blue jeans, black boots, black t-shirt that hugs his body perfectly.
His signature ball cap is pulled down low.
He looks like he’s been working hard outside all morning but still manages to be put together nicely.
His woodsy smell engulfs me as he comes to a stop in front of me, and I wish I could drown myself in it.
“When I finally realized I had the wrong number,” he says, “I debated all the reasons why that might actually be.” Smiling, he tilts his hat back a little on his head.
“I finally decided it couldn’t have been on purpose, so I asked Rex for not only your right number but your address.
You can’t get away from me that easily,” he winks, then holds out the roses for me to take.
“Thank you,” I say as I accept them, and inhale their beautiful fragrance. Shifting my weight on one foot, I try to think of a response. “Should I be concerned that you seem to be stalking me? First the bar, then my parents’ house, now my doorstep?” I joke.
Disregarding the question and gesturing towards the flowers, he says, “One rose for each day I haven’t been able to be with you.”
My heart skips a beat at such an insanely romantic gesture. Is he for real? This is the kind of stuff that you only read about or see in the movies. It’s not what actually happens in real life. At least not to me.
“I was going to leave them with your landlord,” he continues. “Or in front of your door. But, I realized the landlord doesn’t exist, and I have no clue what door is yours. You coming home was perfect timing.”
“I really am sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to have to happen,” I try to apologize.
Shaking his head, he cuts me off. “No worries. It gave me an excuse to see you before Friday.” Smiling, he turns and looks back at my place. “So, are you going to invite me in?” he asks, not missing a beat.
The question is a little surprising. Although, I guess it should have dawned on me. The idea of Noah alone with me in my house instantly takes my mind to a place where only naughty thoughts live, being able to contain myself might be impossible.
I decide, instead, to take this as the perfect opportunity to have a little fun and find out a little more about him. If he wants to get invited up, he’s first going to have to offer up some info.
“You haven’t broken the law recently, have you? Any warrants I should know about?” I begin to teasingly question him.
Noah looks shocked as his gaze immediately swings back my way. “No, not at all. Why?”
“Any drug addictions? Ex-wives? Psycho ex-girlfriends? STDs? Insanely annoying OCD habits? Recent aliments or sicknesses I should be aware of?” I proceed, halfway joking and half totally giving him the third degree.
Laughing and shaking his head, he answers, “Nope, I’m clean.” Holding his hands up in surrender for extra emphasis, he flashes me that insanely gorgeous smile of his, and I almost melt at his feet like a silly fan girl for her boy band dream.
Faltering for only a moment, I bounce back quickly. “Then, yes, Noah, I’d be delighted if you would come in.” Batting my eyelashes for emphasis, I smile and lead the way
Fumbling with my keys at the door, I take extra time to go over the way I left my apartment in my head, and try to remember if I had left anything out that might be embarrassing.
Fully confident there are no bras hanging over the couch or boxes of tampons on the kitchen counter, I open the front door to my apartment complex.