Chapter 23 Noelle
23 Noelle
June 20, Version 135-ish
I sit on my futon with my morning coffee and listlessly watch the viral squirrel video yet again. For the last several days, I’ve been focused on getting out of this stupid loop. I was already scraping the bottom of the barrel when it came to ideas, but now, I’m truly out. Since the night I got drunk, I’ve quit my job multiple times and stood in Times Square with a sign. If those didn’t do the trick, what will?
I’m an engineer. Surely I can figure out a time loop.
At that thought, I start laughing. I’ve figured out nothing, except the fact that Fernando makes more than me and Lee won’t give me the raise I deserve. And I don’t think my engineering background has helped me at all with this situation.
I need a day off from this.
ME: I think I’m going to spend the day with Cam.
AVERY: Sounds good. I might meet you at the brewery.
ME: You want to see the guy you were flirting with the other day?
AVERY: maybe?
I do some reading, consider sending Lee an email that says Fuck you before ultimately deciding against it, then call the hair salon.
I’ve gotten this exact haircut nine—or is it ten?—times now, and I love it. I love how my head feels lighter afterward. It’s just annoying that I can’t keep it.
I give the stylist a generous tip, then walk out the door of the salon. Sure, my life is just as ridiculous as before, but I feel rejuvenated. Taking a day off was a good idea. I—
“Shit!” I cry as I tumble to the ground. I rub my sore knee as I look up.
“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
From this angle, the sunshine is like a halo around Cam’s head, and I stare at him, entranced. I guess I wasn’t paying close enough attention when I walked out the door, and I ran into him. He’s on his way to the bubble tea shop a few doors down.
“I’m fine,” I say.
His concerned look morphs into a smile that’s powerful enough to make me tingle, even though I’ve seen it many times before. He extends his hand, and I take it.
“You look really familiar,” he says, “and I feel like I ought to know your name, but I don’t. That seems impossible, though, because if I’d learned your name, I’m sure I wouldn’t have forgotten it.”
We’re still holding hands.
“And why is that?” I ask with a flirty tilt of my head.
He chuckles. “You busy right now? I could buy you some bubble tea as an apology for knocking you down.”
“I think that was my fault.” I pause. “But I accept.”
“Wait a second. Your name—it has something to do with Christmas?”
I wait for his next words, heart thumping wildly. This is new.
“Saint Nick,” he says. “Nicky? Nicole?”
“Noelle.”
He still didn’t get my name, but it’s progress, however small.
“I’m Cam,” he says as we head to the tea shop. He opens the door and gestures me ahead of him.
As we wait in line, I consider how I want today to go. It’s been a while since we spent much time together.
Weirdly enough, this is exactly the sort of situation I’d hoped to engineer when I first got stuck in the loop: a meet cute that would have him asking me out, with the hopes that he’d kiss me.
But I’m not the same woman that I was back then. I’m also encouraged by how close he got to guessing the right name.
“You’re going to order the Iron Goddess milk tea with pearls, aren’t you?” I say as the customer in front of us orders.
“How did you know that?” Cam asks.
I shrug. “I’ll tell you in a moment.”
We place our orders and stand off to the side to wait.
“This is going to sound cheesy,” he says, “but I mean it honestly—I feel like I already know you, even though I can’t remember anything about it.”
“That’s because you do know me. We’ve met dozens of times before.”
“That’s not possible. I’d remember—”
“You never do, not really, and it breaks my heart every time. Think of it like this: we met in an alternate reality.”
Our drinks are ready, and we take them to a small table by the window.
“What do you mean?” Cam asks as he sits down. “I’m confused.”
I explain the situation. As “proof,” I tell him about his plans for the day, and a few tidbits I know about him. Since I’ve never stayed in the tea shop this long, I can’t predict the customers like I can at the brewery—other than the woman and her dog—but he believes me. It doesn’t take much to get him to believe me; it feels like he’s primed to do so.
“So you don’t know why you’re in this loop,” he says, “or how to get out of it.”
“I’ve tried. I quit my job. I traveled across North America. I ate a disgusting number of dumplings—”
“I’m not sure there’s such a thing.”
“—I kissed you.” I cover my mouth after I say it.
“Wait a second,” he says. “Is that the only reason you kissed me? To see if it would break the spell, so to speak?”
My cheeks heat. “I admit that’s why I kept returning here.” I gesture around the shop. “At first, I mean. I didn’t know you well, but you were nice to me the first time we met, and I thought perhaps it meant something that I’d seen you in multiple locations.”
“We didn’t meet here?”
“No, the very first time I saw you… it was soon after I’d gotten into the loop. I was crying at the night market, and you asked if I was okay.”
“Ah.”
“But eventually, I felt weird about trying to orchestrate a cute meeting, and I gave up on that. Then I just happened to walk into Leaside Brewing, and you were singing a sea shanty. We got to talking and… yeah. You gave me your number and we met up later. I’ve lived variations of that day many, many times. Often, we go to the night market together, and you get the bulgogi poutine.”
“Sounds like something I’d do.”
“Other times, I try to mix it up.”
He regards me from the other side of the small table. “What do we do on those days?”
“One time, I beat you at mini-golf. Too bad you don’t remember that.”
He laughs, then slides his hand forward. “I really wish I could remember. Everything.”
“I wish you could too,” I whisper.
This feels like too much—it’s too serious—for a first date. But I have no concept of what is normal anymore. How can I?
I take comfort in the fact that some part of him seems to remember me. When he moves his hand up my wrist, there’s something in his expression that says, This is familiar .
“So, what happens after we leave the bubble tea shop?” he asks.
“I don’t know. We’ve never talked much here before. Usually, I just meet you at the brewery. There are no other customers for the first twenty-five minutes, so we talk then.”
He nods.
“You’re extremely chill about this whole thing,” I say.
“I am, aren’t I?”
“Some strange woman—whose name you don’t quite remember—tells you that you’ve gone on many dates with her before, all on a single day in June. It shouldn’t be easy to accept.”
“I don’t know. It just feels right.” He leans forward and presses a single kiss to my mouth. It’s over way too soon. “You want to come to the brewery with me?”
The taproom isn’t open yet. Cam uses a key to let us in. The big white guy is behind the bar, and nineties music is playing.
“Hey,” Cam says. “Justin, this is Noelle.”
They exchange a few words about lager while I stand there rather awkwardly. Then “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” starts playing, and Cam pretends to hold a microphone and lip-syncs. He steps out from behind the bar and comes over to me… and now he’s quietly singing instead of mouthing the words.
Goose bumps break out on my skin, and the words seem to echo inside my chest.
The song is eerily appropriate. Cam will keep missing things, as long as I’m trapped like this. Maybe that will change one day, or maybe we’ll always be stuck in this weird place.
But I can feel his wish that we could have more.
He makes a show of setting down his microphone, and through the tears that are threatening to fall, I chuckle. He walks over to me and sets his hands on my waist.
“I’m sorry,” he says, “that I have to ask for your name each day.”
That’s part of what I always liked about him: the earnestness, the sincerity. Was he ever a sullen teenager who was too cool to put together an answer of more than two words for his parents? I can’t imagine it.
As the song ends, I tilt my head up and kiss him. One of my hands goes to his shoulder while my other palm is pressed against the left side of his chest. I can feel his heart beating, and it’s reassuring.
His lips meet mine again and again, and it’s like we’re trying to express something that’s beyond words. Beyond reason.
“I didn’t want a relationship,” I whisper. “And I kept telling myself that with you, it wasn’t a real relationship. How could it be, if you couldn’t even remember my name? Yet I still…” I trail off, frustrated with my inability to express myself.
He doesn’t rush me, just sways us gently to the song that’s now playing—something I don’t know. I keep thinking that he ought to be more freaked out by my declarations, yet he’s not. Some part of him knows .
“I’ve come to really like you and care for you.” I hold back from saying I love him; I’m not sure I can truly love him until I know who he is outside of June 20. “Each time you don’t remember, it hurts more than the time before.”
“I’m so sorry,” he says feelingly.
“You have no reason to apologize.”
“I feel like I should be able to make myself remember. Like if I just say your name to myself enough times…” He dips his head closer to my ear. “Noelle, Noelle, Noelle.”
Each time, he imbues it with a slightly different feeling.
Wonder.
Desire.
I kiss him and hold him as tightly as I can.
His hand slips below my shirt, and I hiss out a breath.
“What are you remembering?” he murmurs. “Have we ever—”
“No. It didn’t feel right, if I didn’t tell you about the time loop. And the time I did—my friend needed me. I had to go to her. But before that, you did…” I move his hand so it’s on the button of my jeans. “Are you sure? After everything I’ve said?”
“Yes.” He leads me through a door, then through another. It’s a small office, and there are papers in disarray. He lifts me onto the desk. “I’m going to tell Justin to open the front door at three. I’ll be back.”
He presses a kiss to my cheek, and when he leaves, I’m half-afraid that he won’t return. That, once again, this won’t actually happen. Though I’ve lived with the disappointment before, it feels like too much now.
But then he’s standing between my legs, reassuring me with his mouth on mine. I wrap my legs around him and pull his shirt over his head. A moment later, he does the same to me, and my bra quickly follows.
I feel a moment of self-consciousness. It’s been years since I’ve been shirtless in front of anyone. But that feeling is wiped away as he dips his head and takes my nipple in his mouth. I roll my hips, seeking out his, but he’s too far away. I groan in frustration.
“Just a second,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.” Hurriedly, he undoes my jeans. “Have I ever made you come?”
Before I can reply, he slides my pants and underwear down. My bare ass hits the cool desk, and there’s something delicious about the fact that we’re not doing this in a bedroom.
“No…” It turns into a moan as he kneels and his tongue touches my clit. I grip the edge of the desk. I need this—I need him—so badly.
I’ve thought about it, of course. All the nights I’ve lain in bed alone, waiting for the day to restart, I’ve thought of feeling his mouth in places it’s been—and places it hasn’t. Until today, that is.
His touch feels like the most important thing in the world.
He slips two fingers inside me, and when I jolt, he looks up at me with delighted wickedness. I grab his hair and push his head back down because I need to finish.
Cam doesn’t keep me waiting. He dives between my legs with more enthusiasm than he has when singing sea shanties, and it’s all focused on me . He touches me like today is all we have, and I press my hips against him, shameless in my desperation, and move in time with the thrust of his fingers.
There are so many things I want that don’t seem to be possible. But this— this is something I can have.
He picks up the pace, and I urge him on. I push my hips forward… and hold.
My release feels like more than a simple orgasm. For a few glorious seconds, all frustrations empty from my body, and I’m completely lost in pleasure.
When I open my eyes, Cam is standing. I waste no time in unzipping his pants and sliding a hand over his cock. Touching him like this… it makes my breath unsteady. My other hand reaches for the condom in my purse, which somehow ended up on a stack of papers. I hold it up, and he nods. While my current life seems to be free of consequences, it still feels wrong not to use protection. I tear open the wrapper and roll the condom over his erection, my hands shaking. When he presses the tip of his cock to my entrance, I cover my face. It’s too much yet not enough.
“You okay?” he asks, and for a split second, I flash back to all the other times he’s said that to me, in so many different situations that he no longer remembers.
“Yes,” I whisper at last.
He pushes inside, and I swear, I growl .
“I’m not going to last,” he says through clenched teeth.
I nod jerkily. Anything to get him to move.
And then he does.
My hands are all over him. I want to touch everything I can. Burn this into my memory, bright enough for the two of us.
One thing I’ll never, ever forget is the joy on his face. There’s an intensity there too, but more than anything, Cam looks absolutely fucking delighted.
And I’m delighted to be here with him.
His mouth crashes down on mine, and I can still feel his smile as he kisses me. I wrap my arms around him, needing as much contact as I can with him—as though, if I hold him tightly enough, I can keep him with me, keep him experiencing time in the same way that I do.
Overcome with the urge to see his face, I pull my head back. Sweat is beading on his skin. I rest my forehead against his, and he brings his finger to my lips. After I lick it, he drops his hand between our bodies and moves his finger over my clit.
He slides his other hand under my ass and tilts my hips. That angle… oh my god. I bury my face in the crook of his neck so every other person in this building doesn’t hear my scream.
He pushes into me a few more times and finds his own release.
“We have to do that again,” I say as he pulls out.
He presses a hand to my cheek. “We will.”