Chapter 33 The Good Stuff #2
Laura steps aside and I unlock the building, pressing into the vintage room.
The vinyl wrapped benches are a little worse for the wear, especially the ones by the window.
But the black and white checkered floor and retro bar stools peppered around the silver flecked countertops still look to be in decent condition.
I flick the lights on, and only a few sputter to life.
The room reminds me of myself in some ways, damaged but still standing, and waiting for the right circumstances to shine.
Kara pushes into the building behind me, a box of cleaning supplies balanced in her arms. She drops it on the counter with a huff.
“Damn,” she curses, brushing her finger along the top of the forgotten counter. “It is dusty. And dark. I’ll make a run for some light bulbs and more rags. I have a feeling you’re going to need them.”
“Oh good thinking.”
I’m already twelve steps ahead of her, picking out paint colors and compiling a list of decorations I want to buy.
“I think we’ll just focus on this side of things for tonight.
If we can get the bathrooms into reasonable shape, and a few tables I think the rest can wait until after the party.
Do you think some of this wallpaper will come off in chunks big enough to frame?
It might be kind of fun to have actual throwback art on the walls. ”
“Lottie.” Kara is standing at the counter, a giant smile plastered to her face. “Take a second. Look around. You did it. This is happening”
A surge of pride wells in my chest and I burst into an incredulous laugh. “It’s happening. It’s really fucking happening.”
“I’m going to buy some champagne. We are celebrating.”
By the time Kara and I finish for the day, I am drunk and covered from head to toe in grime. Our celebratory toast out of plastic cups turned into taking swigs right from the bottle any time we stumbled on something in worse condition than we thought.
The windows turned out to be coated in grease and took most of the afternoon. Kara spent her time scrubbing the floors and scraping layers of dust off the worn vinyl booth benches.
We call a ride share, laughing and giddy the entire way home. As we burst in through the front door my phone buzzes, Noah’s face popping up on the screen.
“Hiiiiii…”
Kara spins around, notes the phone and mouths ‘is that Noah’, squealing when I nod.
“Am I too early?”
I giggle and sink onto the couch. We’ve had an agreement that he only call after nine, to lessen the chance that Kara will overhear.
“No. And you don’t have to worry about that anymore. I told Kara about you.”
“Oh?”
I nod my head, emphatically even though he can’t see me. “Yep. And she approves.”
Kara gives me two thumbs up before slipping down the hall. A moment later the bathroom door clicks shut, followed by sounds of the shower.
“I’m glad to hear it. How was your day?”
“My day was fan-fucking-tastic.”
“Lottie?”
“Hmmm?”
“Are you drunk?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds like party planning was either a hell of a time or a disaster.”
My brain conjures the image of the diner as we left it, the warm glow of satisfaction burning bright in my chest. “It was perfect.”
“Good. And you’re still wanting me to come?”
“Yes, but . . .” I sit up, wrestling out of my jacket and kicking my shoes off.
“But?”
“We changed locations. I’ll text you the address but don’t look it up.
I want it to be a surprise. Oh. And I think I want to introduce you as .
. .” I trail off, not really sure what to say.
Even drunk me can tell it might be presumptuous to label him.
“I want to tell people we’re dating. For real. ”
It’s quiet for a moment, just long enough for a lick of hesitation to grow. He sighs into the phone, the sound of it wistful.
“Is it too horny to admit I wish you were here, or that I was there? Because, god, I want to kiss you.”
I giggle, my cheeks warming. “And other stuff?”
“Always other stuff.”
“Good. I can’t have you getting bored of me already.”
“Never.”
Another comfortable silence settles and I can’t stop grinning.
Today was almost perfect. It isn’t until Kara comes prancing out from the bathroom, wrapped in her robe and scrunching her hair in a spare towel that I realize I’ve been sitting here quiet, but grinning like a fool for nearly twenty minutes.
“Hey, Noah?”
“Yes?”
“I should go to sleep. Big day tomorrow.”
“Big day indeed. Goodnight, Lottie.”
Kara sinks onto the couch next to me, and waggles her eyebrows.
“How's the hot boss man?”
“He’s fine.”
“I already know he’s fine.”
I shove her arm. “You’re impossible.”
“This looks good on you. Happy.”
“Thanks, it feels good too.”
“Yeah? You’re doing okay?”
I take a deep breath in through my nose and blow it out through my lips. Kara knows all about my refusal to date anyone for real—about the fear of finding myself dependent on someone.
“I’m . . . okay. Really fucking scared. But okay. Noah is convinced that we can do this, one step at a time, and he’s”—I pause again, trying to wrap words around what Noah is—“Very convincing.”
“Eee!” Kara shrieks and kicks her feet. “Okay. Tell me about the sex.”
“That is one side of things I can’t deny. The sex is good. Really fucking good.”
“Better or worse than Therese?”
I think back to the series of one nighters I spent with Therese—the never ending orgasms and late night munchies. She was good. But Noah is . . .
“Better.”
“Damn.”
Yeah. Damn indeed.