11. Noah/Macey #2
I’d done an excellent job of avoiding Noah since the pool kiss. Maybe people should learn from me. I’d write and publish the 101 guide to avoiding someone in public. Only ninety-nine cents plus tax.
Even now, inside the intimate lounge, I’d managed to avoid him. Potentially not a good look considering we were supposed to be playing the role of the happy couple, but couples needed space too, right?
I leaned against the centerpiece of the lounge, a marble-topped bar illuminated by pendant lights hanging from the vaulted ceiling, and sipped at my soda water.
I wasn’t a relationship expert by any means, but deep down I knew couples on a short weekend trip to Aruba wouldn’t want any space from each other.
Up until now, I hadn’t wanted any space from Noah either. We were having a great day until I had to go and ruin it with that kiss. I should’ve followed Noah’s lead and insisted against it, but I didn’t think one kiss would have the power to change things between us.
How wrong I was.
Because that one kiss made me want to skirt my responsibilities for the rest of the weekend to continue kissing him. Which was a capital P problem as Noah’s reaction had been a look of disappointment coupled with the phrase every girl wants to hear: “That shouldn’t have happened.”
Getting involved with Noah would be a guaranteed path toward heartbreak. I’d done the whole date-an-influencer thing, gotten the T-shirt, and never intended to return.
All that was left on the schedule today was the sunset cruise. Fake a few smiles, take some photos, and be the first ones off the boat.
Next to the lounge’s exit, Jennifer stood with a clipboard in hand.
In her other hand, a mic. She raised it to her lips, cutting through the hum of conversations to announce, “Good evening, all. I hope everyone has enjoyed their day so far. If you’ll please follow me, we’ll head to the pick-up point for the sunset cruise. ”
I glanced down at the heels I wore. God, I hoped the pick-up point wasn’t far.
At least my outfit was comfortable—a deep purple, silky dress with a pearl lining.
Despite the risqué red dress from last night, Britney had taste, and I was grateful she let me borrow her clothes.
I made a mental note to buy her those peanut butter cookies from The Velvet Whisk she liked so much.
As I exited the lounge and bumped shoulders with various strangers, a familiar hand pulled me back. Noah laced our fingers together and whispered in my ear, “I hope you’re finished.”
A shiver snaked down my back. “With?”
“Ignoring me.”
Jennifer led us through the gardens and to a set of steps heading toward the ocean. I slowed my pace, focusing on not tripping in these shoes. The steps were even, but I wasn’t taking any chances. “I wasn’t ignoring you.”
Noah met my pace, never letting go of my hand. “Oh? Then please elaborate on why you haven’t spoken to me since kissing me and running away.”
“I was avoiding you,” I admitted. At the end of the stairs, we walked over a series of smooth stones. “There’s a difference.”
Ignoring someone involved turning your head away from them in conversation and pretending they didn’t exist. Avoiding someone was being very aware they existed but not wanting to alert them to your presence.
“Semantics,” he hissed.
I let go of Noah’s hand as we approached the boat. We had probably convinced everyone around us by now that things were hunky-dory between us, and I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Again.
A sleek and elegant catamaran awaited us in the harbor.
The pristine white exterior gleamed in the golden light of the setting sun and accents of polished teak wood added nautical charm.
Small bottles of water were handed out as everyone boarded the catamaran.
I could smell dinner wafting from the kitchen.
Cushioned benches lined the spacious deck. A retractable awning provided shade over part of the deck, not that we needed much cover from the sun now. Soft, ambient music played from hidden speakers as we took a seat on the edge of the bench.
Noah set his arm on the bench behind me—not touching me but close. “We both look good tonight.”
I snorted. “You know, most people would say ‘you look good tonight’ and wait for the other person to say ‘you do, too’.”
“Why do that when we both know we look good? ”
I rolled my eyes and turned my head down. “Noah, where’s your ankle wrap?”
He brushed it off. “I’m fine.”
As the boat set sail, the crew distributed hors d’oeuvres, including fresh seafood and artisan cheeses.
I shoved a piece of shrimp into my mouth. “Fine. But don’t come crying to me if you’re in pain later.”
“Me and my ankle were doing fine before you inserted yourself into the healing process.” He snapped a piece of cheese in half, crumbs falling to the floor. “Let’s get drinks.”
By the bar, the sky had begun to paint itself in shades of orange and pink. The tranquil water around us reflected the vibrant colors, creating a mirror image. I took a few minutes to grab photos and videos. After snapping a few, I noticed everyone else on board doing the same.
If there was one thing writers and influencers had in common, it was that we recognized a photo opportunity when we saw one.
“I’ll have a Coke, please,” I said to the bartender, a woman around my age with a button nose.
“Two,” said Noah.
I paused, fingers drumming on the top of the bar. The bartender cracked open two Cokes and poured them into glasses with ice and slices of lemon. She handed them over, and I took them both. I thanked her and she moved on to the next guest.
At Noah’s raised brow, I brought the glasses closer to my chest. “I don’t care if you want to get a cocktail. It doesn’t bother me.”
“Good,” he said and took one of the glasses from me. Our fingers brushed. Such a small touch shouldn’t make me nearly keel over, but here we were. “Sometimes I want to have an alcoholic beverage, and sometimes I don’t. Not everything is about you, Scribbles.”
Warmth flickered to life in my chest as we walked toward the edge of the ship. Maybe things were okay between us, despite the awkward pool kiss. “I guess it will be nice not to be the only sober person by the end of the night.”
We found spare seats near the railing, watching as someone insisted on initiating a game of limbo on the deck. My phone vibrated. We must not be that far away from land if I still had service.
Glass in one hand, I checked my texts.
Mom: So proud (and jealous!) of you, Macey. A press trip in Aruba, so cool! Bring me back a souvenir and let me know what you’re going to write for the magazine.
I dropped my phone back into my bag. Later, I’d respond, but right now I didn’t want to think about the magazine.
“Who died?” Noah asked. “Besides that man who just died of embarrassment slipping on the deck.”
“No one.” True to his words, there was a man on the deck trying to brush off the fact he’d tripped over his own feet. “It was just a text from my mom.”
“Really?” He waited for my nod. “Then why do you look so troubled by it?”
I tapped my foot against the floor, trying to find the best words.
“Sometimes I think my mom loves my job more than I do. It had always been her dream to work at a magazine, but she and Dad had me when they were sixteen, so she never really had the chance to chase that dream. She texted to ask what I’m writing about this weekend. ”
“Do you?”
“Do I what? ”
“Love your job,” he clarified.
“Oh,” I considered the question. I loved my paychecks and financial security. I loved having insurance that covered my inhalers and annual doctor’s appointments. “It’s a job. It’s something I’m meant to do, not love.”
“There’s nothing else you’d rather be doing?”
“I used to want a travel blog of my own, but that’s not in the cards for me right now. My column is doing really well, and I should focus on that.”
Noah responded, “Maybe you should focus on doing what you love, instead of what you feel obligated to do. Even if it’s scary to start something new.”
“That sounds like something a rich person would say.”
The words were a little scathing but not entirely untrue. I tensed, worried he would take offense, but he laughed and playfully shoved my shoulder. “You got me there. I know being an influencer isn’t all bad. Brand deals pay a lot.”
Must be nice .
“You must like it a lot, considering you gave up Cornell for it.”
“I gave up Cornell for Daphne,” he corrected me. “To take care of her after Mom died.”
“Was there no one else to help?”
Noah hesitated. I worried I scared him off with my questions. “No. We never had a relationship with our father. He left after Daphne was born. Was barely in the picture before that.”
I placed a comforting hand on his knee. “That’s awful. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s probably better that he stayed far away instead of hurting us from up close.”
To an extent, I understood where he was coming from. But I worried he was letting that philosophy dictate his current relationships .
I cleared my throat and removed my hand from his knee. “By the way, I am sorry for not asking about the kiss. I know you didn’t like it.”
He looked confused, turning his attention from the small dance party that had gathered on the deck to me. I watched his eyes dip from my eyes to my lips then back up again, his own lips parting. “I liked the kiss. What I didn’t like was the setting.”
“What do you mean?”
“Our first kiss shouldn’t have been for show like that.”
His spine immediately stiffened, like he was shocked the words left his mouth. Suddenly, a spot on the horizon appealed to him much more than looking me in the eye. A shame because his eyes were so pretty by sunset. They looked like the sun over a field of freshly mowed grass.
I gave him a shy smile, one that hopefully didn’t let slip how fast my heart was racing. “Our first kiss?”
That implied there would be more kisses. A fact that probably shouldn’t please me as much as it did.