Chapter Four #2
The man who she’d kissed on New Year’s Day after sobbing into his shirt.
The man who she wanted to kiss again.
But she wasn’t going to. She wasn’t going to…
Her phone made the notification someone was buzzing her door. She hit the right button and pulled herself together. He was here. He was…
She tried to take a breath, calm down, smell the candles she’d lit earlier before blowing them out…
The knock at the door brought her back to earth, and when she opened the door, she could fall into his eyes.
“Heeey,” he said.
She had to pull herself back to reality. He was her friend. Who she’d kissed.
And she hated herself for wanting to kiss him again.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, trying to convince herself. “Glad to see you.”
He nodded and she wondered what was going through his head; what he was feeling. And whether he was as conflicted as she was.
But there was no trace of that in his eyes—concern maybe and possibly relief?
“Good,” he finally said. “I’m glad to see you too.”
He was carrying a cooler, otherwise she’d have embraced him already. But all the same, she led him to the kitchen table, where he put the cooler down, and then put her arms around him.
He didn’t push her away; in fact, he pulled her closer.
“I’m so glad you figured out the caterer situation,” he said. “At least you got someone who’s willing to step in and give Ash and Judith the food they deserve.”
It was a question, but only someone who knew Jason as well as she did would hear it.
“Yeah. But more importantly, I never would have been able to have the presence of mind to even begin to fix the issue without you,” she said.
“If you hadn’t been there, if you hadn’t sat with me, pulling the list together… I don’t know what I could have done.”
He stepped back and she felt like she’d lost something. “You could have,” he said. “You’re the strongest…”
She didn’t want to hear him tell her she was strong. Not then at least. “I wasn’t feeling strong at the time, but you didn’t make me feel any less. It means a lot that you were there for me.”
He reached up to cup her cheek but then dropped his hand as if he’d been burned.
She was glad she hadn’t given in to the impulse to rub her cheek against his hand or close her eyes; that would have been awkward, as if she hadn’t already lost the map to this particular set of interactions.
“Sorry,” he said as she wondered, once again, what was going through his head. “Anyway, should we eat?”
She nodded. “Yeah,” she managed, hoping that this awkward feeling hanging over everything would dissipate soon. The last thing she needed was for this particular friendship to be lost in the mire of unbalanced feelings.
*
Dinner was worse than quicksand. Not the food, of course. He learned the extent of her gastronomic vocabulary, complimenting the food he’d prepared in every possible way; some he’d heard before and even some he hadn’t.
And that was the extent of what they discussed: the food.
As if somehow conversations over food had become their safe space.
Dammit.
He didn’t want this friendship, this connection, that he had with Naomi to have the need for a single solitary strand of a damn safe space. He wanted to be that space.
He also wanted to touch her, wanted to kiss her again. But there was so much muddling his brain and, clearly, hers.
And he still had things to tell her, which he’d been putting off.
They’d talked briefly about movies earlier, so he’d brought a few—and some popcorn. But as he brought out the popcorn, seeing the space next to her on the couch free, he decided it was time.
Once he’d put the popcorn down on the table in front of him and had settled into the couch, he said, “Now that we’ve finished celebrating, I have something to tell you.”
“Tell me!” she said as she moved away from him, looking up into his eyes. “What is it?”
He swallowed. There were so many things he could say at this moment, but there were words he had to use. “I’ve organized my trip. I know how it’s going to go. I still can’t believe it, but I’m ready to tell you.”
The gasp was of excitement; he’d heard her gasps enough to be able to distinguish them.
“Oh my God,” she said, grabbing his hands, eyes wide. “I need to hear all about it.”
He couldn’t resist her anyway—this enthusiastic Naomi, holding his hands? He had absolutely no chance against her, not that he wanted to fight her. “There’s a lot,” he said. “I’m telling you.”
She nodded, a series of staccato motions where she still didn’t let go of his hands, not even changing their position as he wrapped his fingers around hers. “I want to hear everything.”
He said, “This is all about cooking on location and learning if that’s something I want to do. I know restaurants; I know how they work. This…this is…learning outside of my comfort zone.”
Naomi nodded again. “That makes a ton of sense…taking opportunities to learn what you’re interested in. So? What locations are they going to be?”
And then there was no stopping, no other way to pause the conversation. “I’m doing charity work with Katie Feldman, and I’m going to a set, to cook twice for Sam Moskowitz, and then on tour with David Streit and…”
She dropped his hands, startling him and stopping the words and the description from flowing out of his mouth.
“I cannot wait to hear as much as you’re willing and able to tell me,” she said, pulling him closer, ending with her head on his chest, her arms around him like she was using him as a cuddle toy.
Jason didn’t deserve her. Not at all. Not in any way.
But he absolutely wasn’t letting her go; that was for sure. Instead of debating how lucky he was that he’d gotten to know her, he put his arms around her, drawing her in, leaning down and somehow fitting his head on her shoulder. “I will,” he promised. “I also need to hear about you.”
“Mmm.” He felt the vibrations of her words as well as heard them. “I need to take the advice and set up my event planning shingle—my logo, my business name, and the rate card. All of that information. And I have to talk to Ida about her authorized vendors and their contracts.”
He lifted his head and pulled her closer. “You’re the most organized person I know,” he said, barely resisting the impulse to kiss her. “I can see your to-do list taking shape.”
“But it’s not just my to-do list,” she said, making him wonder. “If I do it right, it’s my future.”
“You’ll keep me posted?”
He felt her nod. “I will.”
In the silence that followed, he reached out, carefully touching her cheek, and when she met his eyes, he melted.
“Naomi,” he whispered.
The feel of her breath on his face. “Jason…I want…”
He leaned closer, capturing her lips with his own, the tension that had surrounded them since New Year’s Day lessening with each second spent kissing her; he felt her hands move up the side of his face, her palms resting on his jawline. He could stay like this forever…
Dangerous thoughts to have about his confidante, his best friend.
But when she pulled back from the kiss, she almost immediately started kissing him again, as if she’d pulled back to take a breath or something.
He wasn’t complaining.
He wanted more.
*
Naomi made coffee wearing the sweatshirt Jason left the first time he’d spent the night, remembering the conversation she’d had with him as the sun rose, his arms around her.
She remembered the smell of the coffee, the smell of her bodywash on his skin.
“This changes whatever we want it to change between us,” he’d said, brushing her cheek with his lips.
“Emotional honesty over everything,” she’d said, suddenly relieved that she wasn’t losing the one person she could tell most everything.
He’d nodded. “I’ll tell you everything,” he’d told her. That night and the second night he’d stayed.
He’d called three days before he was scheduled to leave—called, not texted—with the flimsy excuse about her being closer to the airport, which would be better for his early morning flight.
“And that’s the only reason you want to stay over?”
Surprising her, he told her the truth. “No.”
On the day he was supposed to leave, he came to her apartment, with food, wine and all of his luggage.
As was becoming their pattern, this third night started with conversations over the kinds of questions he’d need to answer at each stage of this trip, and the spreadsheets of preparations he’d pulled together.
It ended with another night spent in the safety of his arms.
This…extra part of their relationship had come as easily as breathing, puzzle pieces of their lives fitting together as if they’d been meant to.
Whatever it was, it felt nice. And even nicer when her phone buzzed later that night.
I’m here, his text said. I cannot wait to tell you all about what I’m doing.
And as she was texting her reply, she wondered how she’d manage without him.