Chapter Ten
I WAKE UP TO ANOTHER POUNDING HEADACHE AND AN OVER OVER-WHELMING sense of embarrassment.
For a few blissful seconds I just lay here, warm and cozy in my sheets, replaying last night.
The way Noah looked at me over dinner, the lingering beach walk, the way he touched my face, the way he kissed me like he never wanted to stop.
And then. Oh. My. God. The singing. I groan, rolling onto my stomach and burying my face in my pillow. I serenaded Noah. With one of his own songs. I peek one eye open at my phone on the nightstand.
Noah: Hi Songbird
Noah: Call me when you get up and moving
My bed seems to tilt under me as I stare at the message.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard. I could reply with a joke.
A flirty line. Something unaffected. But the flashback of last night makes me pause.
I sang to him. Badly. And he walked me home but didn’t come inside.
Said he’d imagined what would happen if he did.
I drop the phone back onto my comforter and toss off the covers. I need a distraction.
The air is already thick with humidity as I stroll into town, earbuds in, someone else’s love problems distracting me from my own.
The morning sun bounces off the glossy porches of storefronts that have been caked with multiple layers of paint over the decades.
I push open the glass-paneled wooden door of Briland Bloom and the scent of white tea and sandalwood candles washes over me, mingling with the soft notes of a French café playlist playing overhead.
Dawn is behind the counter straightening a display of silk scarves. Her braids are piled high in a loose, glorious halo that looks both effortless and intentional. She’s wearing a cotton tank dress the color of papaya and hoop earrings that sway when she moves.
When she looks up and sees my hungover face, she plants her hands on her hips. “What is happening? And stop letting out all my air conditioning.”
“I don’t even know,” I answer with an exasperated sigh as I close the door behind me. “I went to dinner with Noah and his friends last night and had the best time. Like, maybe too good of a time? I serenaded him on the beach on our walk back to my house, and he definitely did not come inside.”
Dawn takes this in and whistles. “Okay, back up. All the way to the beginning.”
I join her behind the counter, folding scarves and filling her in. I start with Noah picking me up. I walk her through the whole night, the dinner, the banter, the beach walk, the singing. By the end, I’m even more mortified than when I walked in.
Dawn places both hands on my shoulders and tilts her head down to stare directly in my eyes.
“Lucy, I’m not gonna lie. The singing? A little cringe. But also? Adorable. And the fact that he said goodnight and went home? That’s a green flag, not a red one. Noah seems like a good guy. This is not as bad as you’re making it out to be.”
“You think?” I groan, tilting my head back. “I mean, logically, I hear you. But I’m still dying inside.”
Dawn pats my shoulder. “You were relaxed and letting your guard down. You were...unfiltered. I love unfiltered Lucy.”
She pauses, softening. “Try to feel it out when he calls.”
Right. That. “I woke up to two texts from him.”
Her face lights up. “What did they say?”
I pull out my phone and read them aloud. Dawn waves exasperatingly. “Lucy. For the love of God. Just call him and put yourself out of your misery.”
I stare at the screen and roll my shoulders back, trying to shake off whatever’s rattling under my ribs. “What if I wait till later? Like, this afternoon? Or tomorrow?”
She gives me the Dawn once over. Brutal. Effective.
I look back down at the screen. “I think I’m just gonna text him back.”
“Lukewarm,” she shrugs.
“It’s not lukewarm,” I argue, already typing. “It’s chill. Which is appropriate, because I’d like to recover some shred of dignity.”
I wince, typing slowly.
Me: Last night was fun! Still smiling…and maybe regretting the concert.
Me: How are you?
“Meh,” Dawn says with bored indifference as she reads over my shoulder.
My phone buzzes almost immediately.
Noah: Chocolate chip ice cream might help with the regret. Want to join me?
Dawn fans herself with a scarf. “Oh look, I was right. He likes you.”
I smile, heart fluttering. But I already know my answer.
Me: Tempting, but I promised myself I’d actually get some painting done today. Raincheck?
His reply is quick and easy.
Noah: Anytime.
I heart the message then lock my phone before I can overthink it. Dawn reaches across the counter and gently pats my hand. “Thatta girl. Now go home, blast something good, and paint out your feelings.”