Man of My Dreams

by Faith Andrews

  He knows my name? How the hell am I supposed to concentrate now?

  I muster up some magical trigonometry mojo and sail through the test. Maybe my studying paid off, maybe it’s the lucky eraser, maybe it’s the close proximity to lover boy over here, but whatever it is...I’m not so worried I failed anymore. At the end of the test I place Noah’s good luck charm back on his desk.

  “So, how’d you do?” he asks.

  I can’t help staring into his distracting Ireland green eyes. They almost look fake. “Pretty good, I think. How about you?”

  “Considering that I really didn’t study and I didn’t have this,” he holds up the eraser again, “I think I did okay, too. I guess we’ll find out after he grades them. But if you did better than me, we’re going to have problems.” He scrunches his delectable mouth, making me wish I could lean over and touch it. No, scratch that, kiss it.

  “Oh yeah, what kind of problems?” Is that flirting? I’m not sure, but I think it is.

  Noah avoids the question and just laughs. His Adam’s apple vibrates under a thick, scrumptious neck. “You’re cool, Mia. If I had to flop a test for anyone, I’m glad it was you.” He gets up from his desk and drapes his backpack over his shoulder. “See you around?”

  I can’t get up and follow him out, even though class is over and I’m free to go. This little exchange has left me weak in the knees and if I get up now, I’m not sure my legs will work properly. Plus, he thinks I’m cool...I don’t want to blow that impression just yet.

  I give a pathetic wave and answer his question with, “Yup. See you around. Thanks again.”

  He winks and then walks out of the classroom, disappearing into the sea of students swimming around the hallway.

  Jesus, have I got it bad. This boy is going to break my heart.

  “You do realize you’re talking about a rubber freaking eraser, right?” Grace is sprawled across my bed, flipping through Seventeen magazine.

  “Grace, you don’t understand. We had a moment. It was a little moment, centered around the most ridiculously unromantic object, but it was still a moment.” I’m still giddy thinking about it.

  “Well I think it’s super cool that he knows your name and thinks you’re cool. That’s definitely a start. But now how are you going to make him your boyfriend?”

  I slump down on the bed next to her, smushing my head into my pillow. “I don’t know. But I hope I don’t have to wait too long. The tension is just insane. Like, I feel like I’m going to burst whenever he says my name. But I can’t make the first move, Grace. I don’t even know how to make a move. This is all so bizarre...last year I was a nerdy eighth grader who didn’t even care about boys. Now all I can think about is having my first kiss. It’s all I think about, all I dream about. Noah’s lips planted on mine. And if, by some miraculous twist of fate, it does happen, how will I even know what to do? When to open my mouth; what to do with my tongue; how to breathe through my nose?”

  Grace giggles, “Would you stop it? You’re making me nervous about it for you. You take all the fun out of everything with your overanalyzing. You won’t be thinking about any of that when it happens, trust me.”

  And I do trust her. She knows firsthand. Grace had her first kiss this summer. It was nothing romantic—it was during a game of spin the bottle—but she’d gotten it out of the way and once she did she was free of the worry. She wound up making out with one of her brother’s friends a few weeks later, and based on her description, the second time around was nothing like the tonsil hockey that took place during the childish game.

  “Does your mom keep oranges in the house?” Her odd question confuses me.

  “Yes, why?”

  “Come, let’s go down and cut one up. They say if you practice on an orange you’ll know what to expect.” She jumps off the bed and jerks my arm to pull me towards the door.

  “Grace, are you serious? That sounds ridiculous. I’m not tonguing a freaking orange.”

  “It’s either you make out with a piece of fruit or I call my brother over here to help your cause. Which one?” She stares me down with her hands on her hips.

  I contemplate telling her to go get her brother. He’s cute; it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. But Tony’s like a big brother to me too and I don’t want to make things awkward between us, even if that awkwardness would save me the embarrassment of first kiss awkwardness.

  “Orange it is. No offense to your brother, or anything.”

  “None taken.”

  She pulls me down the carpeted steps. The same steps we used to race down on our butts. When did we grow up? Seems like yesterday we were tumbling down this flight of stairs for ice cream sundaes in my kitchen. Now I’m headed in there to learn how to kiss...an orange.

  Grace cuts the orange into two halves. She hands one to me and licks up the juice dripping down her half. As I watch her, I can’t help but cringe. I cannot believe I’m about to do this.

  “Ready?”

  How do you ready yourself to make out with a piece of produce? “Um, not really. But...”

  “But nothing! Come on, you prude. Bring it up to your mouth and put your tongue in there.”

  “Do I close my eyes?”

  “Sure. Whatever floats your boat. Just do it already.”

  Never has an orange been so intimidating. I take a deep breath in, smelling the pungent citrus sweetness. I imagine Noah in front of me. Instead of the juicy tang, his breath will be minty, his cologne addicting. I close my eyes and pucker up. I allow my tongue to travel over the cold, wet flesh of the orange, circling and poking around, the way Grace described. This is one sticky smooch, I hope when it’s a real live boy—when it’s Noah—that he will react to my touch, unlike this inanimate object.

  I open my eyes, mouth still attached to my stand-in boyfriend, and catch Grace doing the same thing. A moment later her eyes flash open too. We stare at each other before laughing so hard we fall to the floor, gripping our sides. This might very well be the most degrading thing I’ve done to date.

  “So, what did you think?” Grace says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “I hope to God that when I finally kiss Noah Matheson, I won’t be thinking about this damn orange.”

  After my audacious behavior back at the Country Club, I’ve earned myself an escort to the continuation of our high school reunion. Instead of taking two separate cars, Noah has offered to follow me home to drop off my car, where I’ll hop in with him and die as I sit next to him in his passenger seat.

  I almost faint when I see his ride. I’d gotten used to Declan’s flashy need for a luxury automobile, and he always looked sexy behind the wheel of his black Mercedes Benz, but when Noah steps onto the running board of his rugged Silverado pick-up truck, my mouth nearly hits the floor. A tough manly car for a rough manly man. Does the car speak for the rest of him? I wonder what he’s like in...what am I getting myself into?

  He follows me to my quiet, tree-lined street and I park in the driveway. The house looks so deserted. All the lights are out. No one’s home. The girls are staying with my parents for the night. Besides the reunion, they recognized my need for some me time. I’ve been playing single parent now for too long. When they offered I didn’t even hesitate to take them up on it. I needed this break.

  Little did I know that this break would turn into this. I start to feel guilty about the possible betrayal on my family. But it won’t come to that. I can control myself. We’ll be in a room full of people. I’m not about to cheat on my husband with a bunch of witnesses to my marital felony.

  I click the button on the key remote and nervously walk over to the truck. Noah comes out, walks around the front of his dark, grey monster and opens the door for me. Chivalry is not dead and this is starting to feel more and more like a date.

  “Let me help you up,” he says, putting one bulky hand at my wrist, the other at the base of my back. My choice of backless dress just became convenient.

  “
Thanks,” I whisper. All of a sudden the brazen woman from the reunion has lost her nerve.

  He returns to the driver’s side and shuts his door. He glances past me at my house, then focuses on his grip of the steering wheel. “Your home is beautiful, Mia. I bet your family is equally beautiful. Perfect...just like you.”

  Why does he have to go there? I don’t want to think about responsibilities, loyalty, fidelity. This is the closest I’ll ever get to a date with Noah Matheson. Too bad it’s ten years too late.

  “Can you just drive?” I blurt out.

  He starts the engine back up and begins to drive. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...”

  “No, it’s not you. I’m stuck in my own head. Would you promise not to judge me if I told you something?” I close my eyes in anticipation of his response.

  “Of course not. Shoot.”

  I try to arrange the words in my head before opening my mouth and making it all come out in a jumble of erratic emotions. “This is all so...how is it possible that something so wrong can feel so right?”

  Noah removes his eyes from the road, staring at me. He stays silent as he drives a little further, stopping at the stop sign. He makes a right and pulls over to the curb and puts the car in park. I have just opened up the largest can of worms ever.

  Oh God, what did I do?

  “Mia, I would never make you do anything you didn’t want to do. I know I’ve been forward tonight and you...”

  “I know,” I hide my eyes with my hands, completely embarrassed for being so forward myself, “I’m sorry, Noah. I didn’t mean to lead you on. It’s just that my husband is away on business for a month. We were separated for a few months before that because of what he did. I’ve always had this crazy crush on you and seeing you, the whole reunion, the flirting...it all just came to a head.” Perfect! Now I have diarrhea of the mouth.

  “Wait. Take a step back. What do mean ‘because of what he did’?” An adorable look of concern washes over his face.

  “You don’t want to hear about all of this. A housewife’s tale of sorrow. Things are better now anyway so forget I said anything.” I try to push aside the contents that I let escape out of Pandora’s Box.

  “Bull. You wouldn’t be here if things were better now. I may have been a jock, but I’m not dumb. You can tell me. I promise you can trust me.”

  It’s funny because even though it’s been years since our last encounter, I do feel like I can trust him. I take a deep breath and without an ounce of trepidation I start to confess to my high school crush all about the problems I’m facing with my husband...parked on a corner two blocks away from my home with said husband.

  “What an asshole!” he shakes his head, turning up the volume when his eyes light up with recognition of the song. It’s tuned to the ‘90s station...how appropriate. And I want to sink in my seat at the sound of Kiss the Rain. Are the gods of romantic, mood-setting music trying to tell me something?

  “Seriously, Mia. I can’t believe anyone would be so stupid as to take you for granted. Although come to think of it, that’s exactly what I did ten years ago.”

  “What do you mean?” I’m lost in the song. Lost in the moment.

  “If I would have made a move that night at The Room, the night we were both back from college, maybe you wouldn’t be going through all of this right now. Who knows? It could have been you and me living in that house, raising two kids. And I certainly wouldn’t need some chick at a bar to remind me of what I had.”

  Wow, this rugged man wears his heart on his sleeve. Who the hell woulda thunk it? And is it just me or is every other word in this song kiss? Subliminal messages please go away.

  “Noah, I-I don’t even know what to say. This night has been...maybe you should just take me home?” It’s the last thing I want, but I am terrified of what I might do if he doesn’t.

  “If that’s what you really want, just say the word.” He swallows hard, lowering his head. He’s clearly disappointed.

  The angel on my shoulder is telling me to go home, the devil on the other—the one with the sexy, evil grin that I have ignored most of my life—is telling me to live it up for one night. Even if I don’t end the night here, I can still hold my ground and do the right thing.

  “No! I don’t want to go home.”

  His eyes light up—they are a sea of addicting green. “Would I be a real cad if I didn’t take you to the after party? I’m kind of enjoying talking to just you. We can grab a few drinks, or coffee...whatever you’re comfortable with.”

  I’m unusually comfortable, even if my heart is jumping out of my chest. But this song needs to be over...please, God. Something less sultry, less distracting.

  I spring up and giggle when One Week by Bare Naked Ladies starts up.

  “Drinks are good. You pick the place. Sorry for all the drama. Weren’t things so much simpler back then?”

  “Hells, yeah. Now let’s see if you remember all the words to this song... Chickity China the Chinese chicken...”

  He doesn’t miss a beat or stumble on the tongue twister lyrics. Instead he sings the whole song while I just stare at him, smiling, in awe of his strange talent. If he weren’t so hot and if the sexual tension between the two of us weren’t so damn intense, we could probably be great friends. I’m suddenly resentful for everything I might have missed.

  “I never led a girl on by giving her my lucky eraser.”

  We’ve resorted to playing “I never” and unfortunately since I haven’t really lived much, I’m losing. Which means I’m very tipsy.

  He looks at me like I’m crazy, not taking a drink because he believes he’s innocent of my accusation.

  “Drink up, buddy. You’re guilty!”

  “What are you talking about? I never...” his expression changes. It goes from positively sure to utterly confused in a matter of seconds.

  He brings the dark brown beer to his lips, taking a drink from the frosty glass. “I nearly forgot about that. Mia Page, you have a memory like an elephant.”

  I take a swig of my much lighter draft, giggling as I swallow. “You have no idea how the mind of a teenage girl works, do you? When you handed me that eraser it was like handing me an invitation to prom. I thought for sure it meant you liked me, that it was the beginning to something. Maybe we’d hang out which would turn into a date which would turn into my first kiss. But, alas, you left me high and dry. And the eraser was the last thing you gave me, besides of course, a broken heart.” Shit. This is the beer talking right?

  “Wow.” His lips form a straight line. He places his beer back down on the bar, leaning back in the stool. “First of all, when was your first kiss?”

  “Billy Denker. November 1993.” But the kiss was nothing to brag about. We had banged noses before swapping spit. I think it might have been his first kiss too. We had no idea what we were doing.

  “Denks got a piece of you and I didn’t? What the hell?” he pouts, if you can believe that a beautiful beast of a grown man could pout.

  “Hey, don’t be mad at me. I wanted you to be the first, but you never made your move and I didn’t even know how to make a move. Sorry you lost your shot, Noah Matheson, but it’s either shit or get off the pot. You never seemed to get off the pot.”

  He throws his head back and slaps his knee. “Damn, I’ve never heard that expression before. I’m so stealing it. And I’m sorry about the whole pot thing. I was distracted in school. Too much going on—my parents on my back about making good grades and getting a scholarship. I didn’t even date much, never even went out with a girl for longer than a few weeks. I was too into the game to care. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t notice you. I always thought you were beautiful. I wanted to kiss you too, but the timing was never right and I didn’t think it was fair to make any girl second to baseball. Especially not a girl like you. But you can’t say I didn’t try that night—two years after high school?”

  “You mean that night at The Room?”

  He nods, taking ano
ther long pull of his beer.

  “I was already with Declan, Noah. The opportunity was gone.”

  “Seems like a reoccurring theme with us.” He drums his fingers against the laminated wooden bar, looking ahead, not at me. “Remember that song by Eagle-Eye Cherry?”

  I shrug my shoulders. It’s not ringing a bell.

  “Save Tonight. That’s what I wish I could do. He says something about delaying misery. God, I wish we could just stay in this moment, Mia.”

  Now I remember it. That song reminds me of so many nights that just slipped by, another whisper to the wind.

  “This is bad—on so many levels—just so flipping bad.” I shake my head. This is all starting to weigh on me. Talking about the past, kissing, missed opportunities. Sure my head is fuzzy from the alcohol, but I am 100% coherent and it scares me that I am so close to letting down my guard—to stooping to Declan’s level—and getting the kiss I’ve always wanted.

  Noah swivels around in his chair. His hands on my bare knees now. “Well to make bad worse, I have to admit this is the best date I’ve ever been on. Even if it’s technically not a date. And if it weren’t for your douche of a husband cheating on you and making one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever known second guess her whole life...I would have dropped you at home because I’m not the type to go after what’s taken. But Mia, you are irresistible...you deserve better than a husband who takes you for granted because of his own insecurities.” He rakes his fingers through his short ashy blond hair, frustrated. “Ugh! This is nuts!” He gets up from the bar and he orders another round, before excusing himself to the restroom.

  I’m speechless. What can I possibly say to that? That he’s right? That not only has Declan made me second guess everything, but now all this flattery and flirting with Noah has turned my entire world upside down?

  I decide to do the most noble thing I will ever do in my life. It may be a mistake, the hugest, most monumental mistake of my life, but I owe it to myself after everything I’ve been through. I have to be honest. It will justify what I’m about to do. It will give me permission, in a sense.