by Decker, Ally
"Is there—" she started, but Ed cut her off.
"Cozy guy. Please," he added, lowering himself onto the big chair in the corner that nobody else even touched. They dubbed it the Boss Chair and left it at that.
"He didn't call, but we met at the wedding reception I went to on Saturday. We were even seated next to each other." Naomi shook her head. She still couldn't believe the coincidence.
"Wait, another chance meeting?" Fiona asked. "In a city of eight and a half million people? Damn, if I believed in fate, I'd say that's a solid proof."
"Yeah, we got lucky, I guess." She had thought the exact opposite when she'd first seen the seating chart, but it was fair to say, she did a U-turn on that.
"Oh, look, Boss, isn't she the cutest right now?" Fiona laughed. "You should see your smile, lady. You look smitten."
Naomi grunted in protest. "I don't look smitten!"
"Yes, you do." Fiona turned to Ed. "Doesn't she?"
He rolled his eyes, but nodded nevertheless. "Smitten, yes. I'm steering clear of the cuteness level, though."
"Smart man," Naomi told him at the same time as Fiona muttered, "Chicken."
Justin picked that moment to stick his head inside.
"If you want cute, there's Fiona's twelve o'clock waiting in the lobby," he told them and then disappeared.
"Right." Fiona got up onto her feet and put her mug down before stretching her hands above her head.
Naomi glanced at Ed and, sure enough, he was watching Fiona.
I'm not the only one who looks smitten, she thought, but didn't say. She had no business butting in between these two.
She had her own dating life to think about.
And boy, was there a lot to think about now. Naomi had barely done anything else since Saturday night, if she was being honest with herself. She got home at around two, showered, drank a lot of water, and went to bed, thinking about how Elliot had smiled at her once they'd agreed on the date, as if she was giving him something precious. As if she was something precious.
It would usually make her uncomfortable, but it hadn't, not this time. Whether it was because of Elliot, or wine, or both, she didn't know. But she felt good—better than good, if that damn fluttery feeling was anything to go by—so she'd decided to leave worry for another day.
On Sunday, she'd spent the day lazing around her studio apartment, sketching and playing with the graphic design program she was working with on a series of posters inspired by body art. She'd played with the perspective on the body, trying to make a man's shoulder pop out of the picture, and at the back of her head she'd thought about Elliot. How it felt when they were dancing, talking, sitting next to each other—various points of contact between their bodies, mostly separate but coming together from time to time, more and more purposefully as the night progressed.
They hadn't kissed when saying goodbye, and it left her wondering what it would be like. What it was going to be like, once it happened. Those were no longer just fantasies. She had plans. She had detailed plans on what she wanted to do to him and what she wanted him to do to her.
And those plans expanded by the hour.
Justin poking his head into the room again brought her back to the present.
"Your client's here."
Right. Yes. She had a job to do.
***
That evening, she had been at the grocery store, picking out the least ripe bananas, when she heard buzzing in her pocket.
It was a text from Elliot.
Hey there. I'm looking forward to Friday.
Naomi smiled at the smiley face he added at the end and typed one as well, adding:
Me too.
Then she decided it was probably not enough, so she sent another text.
What are you up to? Transplanted any hearts?
The answer came right away.
Haha, it doesn't happen all that often, I will have you know. I did put a bypass in today, though.
Not AS impressive as the transplant, but still, well done.
Thanks! And how about you, tattooed any hearts?
She snorted. It does happen quite often, I will have you know. But no. Mostly animals this week.
Her specialty was geometric art and blending it with a realistic style. Elliot's tattoo was the only purely realistic one she'd done in quite a while. She'd sketched a few variations later on, with her take on it, just for fun.
Do you have an on-line portfolio you could link me to? I'd love to see more of your art.
Of course she had one. All artist had them, these days, unless they were playing the mysterious card, hoping for the word of mouth to sustain their careers—and sometimes, it did.
She sent him the link and put the phone away, busying herself with shopping, so that she wouldn't obsess over his opinion.
She was almost done when her phone rang and it took her a second before she recognized the melody as the one she saved for her mother. She took out the phone slowly and took a deep breath before picking up.
"Hi, Mom."
What followed was their usual exchange of updates, 'everything's fine', 'yes, the weather has been awful here, too', 'no, I'm not working too much, I'm fine'. Same old, same old.
Not that she expected different—actually, she preferred when it wasn't any different, because when it did, it usually gave her a migraine and aching jawline from gritting her teeth too hard.
Then, her mom paused on the other side of the phone, and, shit, there it is. Naomi jinxed herself with this one.
"What is it, Mom?" She could hear her voice getting sharp, too sharp, and she tightened her grip on her cart to stop herself from snapping. It never did any good.
Never changed anything.
"Nothing, Honey, don't you worry—"
"Mom!" she snapped after all. Then added in a forcefully calm tone, "Mom, please, tell me what it is."
"It's nothing certain yet," her mother said slowly after a few tense seconds. "There are talks about another post for your father, maybe, but it's just talking for now. You know how it goes."
Oh, she knew exactly how it went. Too well.
"Mom—"
"Honey, please," her mother cut in, voice gentle. Naomi hated that tone. "We don't know anything yet, so there's no need to do this right now, okay?"
There was never the right time to do this, according to her mother. The woman just didn't want to hear it, no matter how many times Naomi tried.
"Okay, Mom," she said, glaring at the cannelloni pasta she'd been checking out when her mother called. "Sure. Let me know, though, okay? As soon as you know something for sure?"
"Of course, I will."
They finished the call soon after that, but Naomi stood there, not blinking, for what felt like an hour but was probably more like a minute or two.
Her damn phone buzzed again in her pocket, but she didn't pull it out.
She'd had enough for today.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Emergency bypass surgery was, sadly, not an unheard of occurrence in his line of work, but Elliot was still cursing his life—and Mr. Jackson's blood vessels—that it happened on that particular Friday afternoon. He'd called Naomi before going into the operating room to let her know there might be a delay in their dinner plans and she took it in stride, but he still felt shitty about it.
Fortunately, the procedure went fine, so now Elliot was dressing in the staff room fifteen minutes past seven, with plenty enough time to make it to the restaurant on time.
Chin looked up at him from his laptop. "You seem in a hurry."
"Yeah, I have a— I have dinner plans." Elliot fixed his collar, not turning away from the mirror, but he could see the grin on his friend's face in the reflection. "Don't even start," he warned. "I don't have time for this."
"Clearly." Chin sat back and crossed his arms against his chest. "So, who's the lucky woman?"
"An old friend I've reconnected with lately. And that's all you're going to get, because I gotta go."
"
We'll revisit this conversation at a later date, then." Chin's grin grew even bigger. "Have fun…reconnecting."
Elliot flipped him off with a shake of his head and headed out. He checked the time once he got outside and considered his options one more time, finally deciding on taking the train. If there were no delays, he should be at the restaurant before the reservation time, but it was better than being late, or being out of breath from half-running the whole way.
Calm down, he told himself when he caught himself bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for the train. You're not eighteen anymore.
Still, there were times when the thought of taking Naomi out on a date barely felt real. They texted steadily throughout the week from Tuesday on. On Monday, he'd thought he'd said something wrong while complimenting her art since she hadn't responded that night, but on Tuesday she'd messaged him that she'd accidentally turned off her phone and hadn't noticed it until the morning. After that, Elliot had told himself to relax and stop expecting to mess things up.
The pep talk had varying degrees of success, but mostly, it worked. Now, all he had to do was show up on time.
When he got to the restaurant—with five minutes to spare—he finally let himself breathe easier and as the waiter led him to the table, Elliot felt tension draining from his body with each step. He fought a smile as the excitement grew inside of him. He was realizing his eighteen-year-old self's dream, but it was more than that, too. He was meeting a woman he was interested in now.
Saturday night proved to him that it wasn't just nostalgia that made his pulse speed up at the sight of Naomi. Throughout the night they'd talked, and laughed, and danced, and generally existed in their own little world. Elliot had even managed to forget his brother's warning after a while and let himself have fun. This had been what Naomi had always helped him do—just have fun and not worry about the rest of the world.
But all thoughts escaped his head now when he saw her walking through the restaurant towards their table. Her blue coat was designed to draw attention, there was no question about it, but Elliot was more interested in the happy smile she was looking at him with. He smiled back as he rose to his feet.
"Hey," he said when she was close enough.
"Hi." She took off her coat before he could offer to help her with it, but she did let him pull up her chair. "A gentleman, huh? I remember that."
"Well," he said as he took his own seat. "If you have it, you don't grow out if it, I don't think."
She nodded. "Perhaps you're right."
"I'm sorry about earlier. I really didn't want to reschedule."
"And we didn't." Naomi smiled. "Look at us, we're here. And even if we did, it would be okay. Emergencies happen in every job, and I'm guessing in yours, they happen more often than not."
He grinned, raising his eyebrows. "So you're saying that if you had a surprise walk-in someone forgot to cancel…"
"Oh no, there's no way I'd stay tonight." She chuckled. "Or any night, to be honest. That was kind of a one-off exception."
"Well, then, I'm flattered," he told her. And there was the truth beneath the teasing—he did appreciate the gesture.
"As you should be," she tossed back and they grinned at each other for a few seconds until the waiter came over to hand them the menus and ask what they would like to drink.
When he left, Naomi looked up at Elliot above the menu. "So, how did the surgery go? Everything's fine?"
"Yes. As well as it can be at the moment, we'll see how things progress. Bypasses are a common procedure but they can be more dangerous than some people think. A lot of our patients think a bypass fixes everything and they don't have to be careful anymore."
She shook her head. "The mere idea seems scary, I don't know how people ignore a surgery on their own heart."
"You'd be surprised how many people don't care about their heart problems at all." He paused when the waiter came back with their drinks—white wine for her and red for him—and took their order. Once they were alone again, Elliot shook his head. "But I'm not about to bore you with heath issues PSA, don't worry. I'm sure your job comes with more interesting stories than mine."
"I doubt there's no good stories happening in a hospital."
"Oh, they are, but most of them happen in the ER. Things I saw when I was doing my rotation… They cannot be unseen."
She laughed. "Okay, now you have to share."
And so he did. He told a few of the more outrageous stories from his residency days, and she shared some of hers. Apparently, what a hospital and a tattoo parlor had in common was that they both attracted particularly strange individuals from time to time.
It wasn't until they were done with their main courses and waiting for dessert that the conversation switched to reminiscing about their high school days. At the reception, they'd seemed to be in mutual unspoken agreement to steer clear of that subject—with the exception of their conversation about the prom. Now, when the air had been cleared on that, sharing those memories with Naomi spread a particular kind of warmth in Elliot.
"You probably heard all about Jace," he said, trying to sound casual but probably missing by the mile.
"Heard all about what?" she asked.
Elliot's eyebrows shot up high. "About his music career?"
"I haven't heard anything," Naomi admitted. "I know some people check on their high school or college crushes or friends, but I've never done that."
"Yeah, sorry, I assumed since he's been in the media quite a lot, you'd have caught him. Anyway, he's doing well for himself. Started a new band right after high school, they got their lucky break in a Soho club one night two years in." Elliot chuckled. "He told me it's that mythical story you hear about but that never actually happens. Well, it happened to them. They've had their highs and lows, but they have three albums out and they're on tour right now. The band name is Who Are We Are."
"Oh, I've heard that name and I caught a few songs on the radio, but I didn't recognize Jace's voice." She shook her head and smiled in a way that seemed fond. "I don't listen to a lot of pop, but now I'll probably check out their music. Do the two of you keep in touch?"
"Yeah, he's still my best friend," Elliot said, smiling. "We don't see each other often when he's on tour, but when he's home, we get together regularly."
"That's nice."
"Is this awkward?" He stilled with his glass in hand. "Me talking to you about your high school crush on a date? I just realized it's probably awkward."
Naomi chuckled at that. "No, it's not. It would be if I was the one talking about my high school crush on a date." She tilted her head. "I think."
"You may be right." He grinned at her just as the waiter put their ice cream in front of them. "My mistake."
"I promise I'm completely over him," she joked.
Elliot nodded, taking the sight of her in the dim light as she swallowed the first scoop of ice cream. She was even more beautiful now than back in high school, when his tongue would sometimes get stuck in his mouth as he looked at her. "Good. I'm glad."
They talked more over the dessert and dragged it out quite a bit, but the end of the night still came sooner than he'd like. As they stood outside the restaurant, waiting for her ride, it felt like a déjà vu from Saturday. Only this time, he didn't want to part the same way.
She let herself be turned gently, so that they would face each other, and smiled up at him when he just looked at her for a long moment—at her shining eyes, cheeks pinked up from the cold and those lips he'd caught himself looking at throughout the dinner time and time again. Finally, he leaned in and she tilted her head back, and their lips met in the lightest of kisses.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Oh.
Even that brush of lips against lips was enough to send a flash of warmth spreading through her body, but then they were kissing again and it all became a buzz of sensations. The solid weight of his hands over her hips keeping her grounded, the heat seeping into her body through every point of contact, the n
udge of his nose against hers, and finally, his lips, his mouth, his tongue against hers.
She couldn't get enough.
She chased him whenever he pulled back, she closed her fingers over his shoulders to stop him from withdrawing. But he never moved far, always coming back with more—more touch, more heat, more of his scent and taste filling up her senses.
Naomi had had a lot of first kisses in her past, but none of them was like this one.
A shrill sound of honking nearby forced them apart in the end.
"I need to go," she whispered into the space between them, not ready yet to leave their little bubble. It was a great evening with a perfect ending, and she didn't want to come back to reality.
"I know," he whispered back. He ran his hands up and down her back a few times—to warm her up or to console her, she didn't know, but it worked for both. "How about we do this again soon?"
"Yes!" The agreement bubbled out of her before he even finished the question. Yes, please.
"Great." He kissed her one more time before taking a step back and letting their arms fall to their sides.
Naomi shoved her hands into her pockets quickly, shielding herself from a wave of cold air. "Great."
Elliot opened the car door for her and tilted his head towards the back seat. "Get in before you freeze."
She did as he told her, but got her little revenge when she grinned up at him. "Yes, Doc."
His laughter reached her even through the closed door of the car.
She didn't stop smiling all the way home.
***
She had a few appointments on Saturday afternoon, but arrived to the parlor two hours before the first one to get some work done there, since she couldn't concentrate at home at all. The only things she thought about there involved Elliot—their dinner, their kiss, how drawn to him she was. And it was all well and good, but totally not her style. The last time she'd daydreamed about somebody was, well, in high school. Back then, it was understandable. Expected, even.