Chapter 9 #2
“Thank you. You’re beautiful. I always thought you were even when you were dead sweaty after class.” This makes my cheeks flame like I just got out of said hot yoga class.
He points at my bottle. “Another beer?”
I don’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
I watch him walk back to the bar, taking in the way his tight jeans fit around his thick thighs and nice butt.
He’s a tasty morsel, that's for sure, but I’m glad we’re spending tonight getting to know each other.
I feel so at ease around him. I drink my first beer as slow as I possibly can, trying to drag out the time we have together.
When Noah returns, two more beers in hand, I pat his seat like I’ve been saving it for him.
I’m so lame.
Quickly, I try to recover by taking his mind off my awkward gesture. “What’s your favorite TV show?”
“Easy. The Office.”
I perk up. “Mine too. I always say you’re either one of two people. Someone who watches it once and moves on, or you watch it over and over again for the rest of your life.”
“I play it on a constant loop.”
“Me too!”
“I skip the last three seasons with Robert California, though. I can’t stand him.” Another correct answer.
“I wish Will Ferrell had stayed.”
Noah shakes his head. “He was already too big.”
“Sure, but he was the best replacement for Michael.”
“Glad we agree on that. I’m not sure I could even be friends with someone if they didn’t like The Office. We wouldn't have the same sense of humor at all.”
I take another sip from my beer. At this point it’s going to take me all night to finish it. And I’m okay with that. “What about movies? Are you a Marvel guy?”
“Not really. I think all superhero movies feel the same.”
I nod, I’ve seen a total of three superhero movies. “I’m the same way about movies as I am music. Nothing’s as good as what they were doing in the nineties and two-thousands.”
“They definitely don’t make stupid funny movies like they used to,” he says, and I nod in agreement. “I would rather rewatch an old movie I’ve already seen than watch any movie that’s currently out in theaters.”
“What’s your favorite nineties’ movie?”
“Tommy Boy with Chris Farley. We had it on VHS when I was a kid, and we watched it all the time. I basically have it memorized line by line.”
“I have Talladega Nights memorized.” Thank God he’s not going to suggest going to see the newest classic animated movie remake.
“That’s the perfect stupid movie. They just don’t make them like that anymore. I love when I watch a movie and there’s only flip phones.”
“Did you have a flip phone?” he asks.
“Until I went to college. My parents thought if we were going to have a smartphone, we needed to pay for it ourselves.” Needless to say, I was never the coolest kid in school.
“That’s crazy.”
I take another sip of my beer. “Nicole had a pink Razr and I was so jealous of her. I had a stupid ugly black hunk of plastic.”
“I had the Blackberry with the full keyboard. I was always messing up my texts because my fingers were too big for the tiny buttons.” My eyes drop to those hands, taking in just how right he is about their size.
I laugh out loud at the thought of his giant hands punching at little buttons like a caveman. Then I sigh. “Every now and then I think about going back to a flip phone, but I really need my Apple Maps. I am horrible at directions.”
“No one wants to go back to printing out directions from MapQuest. My mom and I used to fight when she would miss a turn going to a football game. She’d be like, ‘it said a quarter mile, that doesn’t feel like a quarter mile’ and we would have totally missed the turn already.”
“You’re right. That’s the only technology we need.” I giggle. I pick my beer up again only to realize it’s empty.
“Another one?”
“I don’t know. What time is it?” I reach for my little purse and look at my phone. “Holy shit, it’s one-thirty! This place is going to close soon.”
Noah rises from his seat. “I’ll go close out.
” I can’t help but watch him walk away again.
I can’t believe we just killed more than four hours at this bar.
I don’t think I’ve ever been able to stand being in a bar that long.
I always get overstimulated by the music and am ready to go.
That’s when it hits me that I couldn’t tell you a single song played after the one I heard everyone singing.
I haven’t heard anything but Noah’s voice.
My focus on him and our conversation let the night slip away like sand through an hourglass. I didn’t even notice.
When I look up again, Noah is back, holding his hand out to me again. “Come on, I’ll wait with you while you call an Uber.”
I nod and take his hand.
We stand out on the street, cars whizzing by and people jaywalking without a care in the world.
I glance down at my phone, keeping an eye on Matt in a white Mazda as he moves slowly down this street on the map.
Noah squeezes my hand to get my attention.
I look up at him and he’s smiling. “I had a great time tonight.”
I smile back. “Me too.” And honestly, I’m not sure how to leave this.
It’s been years since I talked to someone whom I had any physical interest in.
When I was with Hunter, I was extremely loyal and never looked anyone else’s way.
After our breakup, I swore off men and that led us to this moment.
With this man who has been so kind and easy to talk to that I lost all track of time.
I didn’t even think about work except when I explained to him what I do.
It’s nice. More than nice. It’s kind of addicting.
I want to know what he thinks about everything.
I want to know if he’ll give up his coveted spot on the back wall and put his mat next to mine at yoga. But I don’t say any of that.
When Matt in the white Mazda pulls up to the curb, Noah leans down to the open window. “For Audrey?” Matt nods in response and Noah opens the door for me to get in the back seat. I step off the curb and down to the car, making Noah tower even farther over me.
“Thank you for everything.”
He leans in and places one chaste peck on my left cheek. “It was my pleasure. Let me know you made it home safe.”
I slide into the car and set my purse on the bench seat. Noah shuts the door and steps back so the car can leave.
When I get home the house is dark and I realize I forgot to turn the entryway light on before I left. I let myself in, kick off my shoes, toss my purse on the couch, and head straight to the kitchen for a glass of water.
While I sip it, I lean against the counter to text Noah.
But when I open his contact, I have an overwhelming urge to call him.
I can easily text to let him know I made it, but I’m still thinking about our conversation, sitting close at a tiny bar table, and how I never got to ask when he thinks he’ll be back to yoga after training camp.
When exactly does training camp start? I could hit that call button and have answers to all my lingering questions…
I hit dial.
I don’t have to wait long. It only rings twice before Noah’s smooth voice answers. “Hello?”
“Hey,” I say, trying to hide how fast my heart is beating. Can he hear my blood rushing through the ear that’s pressed up against the phone? “I made it home.”
“Oh, good.” I can hear him setting his keys down. I imagine he kicks his shoes off next.
“I had a great time.”
“Is that why you called?”
I bite my lip. “I’m that obvious, huh?”
His low chuckle washes over me. “It’s a good thing.”
I hold the phone to my ear with my shoulder while I put more water in my cup. “I just got home and thought to myself: I didn’t get all my questions answered.” Honesty seems like the best policy at this point.
Ironic, I know.
“Hit me with ’em.”
I head to my room and put Noah on speaker so I can get in my pjs while we talk. “When does training camp start?”
“The end of next week.” I can hear the rustle of clothing on his end.
If I imagine him rolling his shirt over his broad shoulders, then sue me.
I wonder if he sleeps without a shirt. Somehow I now understand dudes who ask women what they’re wearing when they talk on the phone.
I’m barely tamping down the urge myself.
“So that’s when you’ll stop coming to yoga classes? Why?” I ask.
“It’s a violation of my contract to do any physical activity not sanctioned by the team during the official season, which starts with training camp.”
Oh. It’s going to be a long six months of going to class and being disappointed that Noah’s not there in his usual spot against the wall.
Part of me is screaming to tell him that.
It would be so easy to just say it, but the other half of me is warning me away.
This is a professional athlete. He’s busy, he’s contractually obligated, he’s…
so hot. I quickly decided it’s better to keep these feelings as inside thoughts for now. “Are you excited?”
I can hear the hesitation in his breath, considering how he wants to answer.
I climb into bed, sans teeth care—even though I never miss out on flossing—while I wait for him to speak.
I’ll go back to the bathroom after we hang up and wash my face, brush my teeth, floss, etc.
“I’m excited to see my teammates again. A lot of us live here, but go on vacation or travel to see family during the off season, so I haven’t seen some of them in a while.
” He pauses again, seemingly to decide if he wants to tell me the rest of his thoughts.
“But… to be honest, there’s a lot riding on this season.
My rookie contract is almost up, and I need to prove my worth to the team this season. ”
“What would happen if you didn’t?” I lie in bed, covers pulled up to my chin, just the bedside lamp casting a warm glow over the rest of my room. I set the phone on the pillow next to my head so I can relax and listen to his voice.
“Anything could happen. I could get traded, or I could become a free agent and have to go try out for different teams. If no one wanted me, I might not be on a team next year.” I can hear the uncertainty in his voice. That’s a lot riding on one season of football.
“I’m sure you’re going to be great. You could win the Super Bowl this year, you never know. It’s only just beginning.” I try to hold back my yawn, but it defeats me.
“You should go to sleep.”
“No, I want to hear more about football.” But I do close my eyes to let them rest. It’s well into the night now and I am tired, but with the morning coming quickly I want to hold on to this while it’s still just us. “Tell me about your regular day during training camp.”
“Well,” Noah starts, and I can feel the weight of sleep lingering over me, threatening to take me under.
I can’t help but think back to earlier tonight when I felt Noah’s heated gaze on my lips as I took a bite of dessert, to later when he had me laughing over my beer at the weirdest bar I’ve ever been to.
There’s no reason an apology dinner should be the best date I’ve ever been on in my life, but here we are. That’s kind of sad, that no other date was as good as a dinner and drink. Considering I was previously engaged, I guess the bar is pretty much on the floor.
I have a feeling Noah will be making an effort to raise it.
The next morning starts way earlier than I’m ready for it to.
When I turn my head, my phone hits me in the face.
I pick it up and realize I’m still on the call with Noah.
The duration of the call is over six hours and twenty-three minutes.
I don’t know what time I fell asleep on him last night, but from the tiredness pounding in my skull, I’m going to guess it was late.
Do I hang up on him? Should I say goodbye first? What if he’s sleeping? What if he’s not sleeping and he’s just quietly sitting on the other side of this call waiting to see if I’m going to say something?
I hit the end call button and open my messages to send him a text, but I’m distracted by how many texts there are from Nicole.
Nicole
How’s the date going? Is he hotter outside of yoga?
I’m assuming it’s going really well since you aren’t texting me back.
Okay, it’s been several hours, so you either made it home and are going to Pound Town, or you’ve already been murdered and dumped in the woods somewhere.
…Seriously, text me back.
I shoot her a quick text:
Am alive and home. All good.
My phone rings immediately in my hand and I answer it. “Hello?”
“Spill,” demands Nicole.
“There’s nothing to spill.”
“Then why didn’t you text me back last night?”
“We went to a bar after dinner for a few beers. I wasn’t checking my phone, and it was late when I got home.”
“But you had a good time?” she asks.
“Surprisingly, I did. I called to tell him I made it home safe and we ended up falling asleep on the phone.”
“That’s so cute,” she sings. “So you’re officially back out there. Audrey Dupree is back on the market, ladies and gentlemen!”
“I don’t know if I would say that.”
“You went out, with a man, to dinner and a bar—that’s getting back out there.”
I rip the covers off and roll out of bed. “I ripped the bandage off, sure, but that doesn’t mean the cut underneath is totally healed.”
“And that’s okay. There’s no rush here. Does Noah seem like the kind of guy to bounce in a week if you don’t start putting out?”
“No. He’s not.” I pause, thinking back to everything he said. “He’s incredibly kind. We talked all night, about nothing and everything. I couldn’t tell you one specific thing we covered.”
“See?” she says. “Don’t count him out right away just because your expectations are so low. Give Noah a chance to raise them. He might surprise you.” I dig through the top drawer of my dresser for a bra.
“Damnit, Nicole, why do you always have to go all Dr. Phil on me?”
“One of us has to!”
“It’s only like eight-thirty in the morning.”
“No time like the present,” she tuts.
“And how’s your dating life going?”
The words are barely out of my mouth before she’s saying, “Just got home to the doggos, gotta run!”
I laugh and call out the word “Chicken” as we both hang up and I stare at the ceiling, bra hanging from one hand, phone in the other.
Do I really have to decide today if I’m ready to let Noah Fox break my heart?
Tomorrow? Even if he does call me, couldn’t I have a couple more dinners to figure everything out?
Even though last night felt so natural, we’re still getting to know each other.
I can hear Nicole cackling in the back of my mind that she was right. It was time for me to get back out there.