“Help you out with what?” I hear Evelyn ask and turn to meet her gaze. I question if this is the right time to pursue the matter, but figure to hell with it because I don’t want to chance not having jumped in headfirst in case I never get the opportunity again. I saw how quickly my last opportunity was spoiled … and the one before that. Time to throw the cards on the table and see what we’re both holding.
“What do you need help with?” She smiles, having to know the answer to her own question. I pause for a moment, taking her and this moment in. I’ve never been one to half-ass anything. If I’m going to go for it, I’ll be all in and I will never recover.
“You wouldn’t be interested in those details,” I say, trying to buy more time to make sure I’m positive about my decision and ever so shyly trying to avoid the question. I suddenly fear her rejection more than I have since first laying eyes on her, and I am not entirely sure why. Maybe it’s because typically you’re safer in your little fantasies and the truth might hurt too much.
“I don’t know. I’m pretty inclined to like everything about you at this moment,” she says, whispering and leaning in closer. “Try me. You might surprise yourself.”
Evelyn’s confidence, an unforeseen bonus, both shocks and turns me on. Mind immediately made up, I’m ready to surrender it all if she’ll have me. Hell, if I wasn’t so tripped up on this girl, I’d realize she already half-answered my question.
“What if I was to say I’m liking everything about you the more I get to know you too?” I whisper back, countering her confidence with some of my own. I lean in and drown myself in the blue of her eyes. I’ll never tire of looking in those eyes. A man can get lost in the depths of the possibilities they evoke.
“I’d say maybe you need to get to know me even better,” she says, leaving me thrilled with the ease in which we’re having this conversation. I was hoping she wouldn’t play hard to get but never anticipated it being this easy.
Without thinking, I open my life up for the first time in a long time and ask, “How about I take you out Friday and do just that?” Pausing, I take the time to speak my next set of words slowly, wanting them to sink in as much as they can. “There is nothing I want more than to have you all to myself. No group. No bar. No friends as a distraction…” I brush a strand of her hair out of her eyes and tuck it behind her ear, watching the shiver run up her body “…just the two of us.”
Our conversation once again becomes whispers intended only for our ears as we lean in to one another, attempting to drown out the world. It isn’t that I wouldn’t have asked her if everyone was listening, it’s more the idea that privately she’s all mine with no one’s feelings to hurt and no one’s opinion but her own to form her answer.
“I’d like that very much,” she whispers back enthusiastically as she accepts an offer that has way more behind it than I think she knows.
“It’s a date, then?” I ask, wanting to make sure that she knows my every intention, not wanting to leave anything undefined.
“Oh it most definitely is a date,” she confirms, smiling brightly.
I smile myself and ease back into my chair, enjoying that I just succeeded in getting her all to myself. Last night I felt crushed seeing her flee the bar, not knowing how to get ahold of her. The thought that I might never see her again was a nightmare I hadn’t been able to escape all day.
Twenty-four hours ago, I had no desire to ever feel the way Evelyn makes me feel. Now, I can’t get enough of her. All my ideas about never falling in love again died the moment I saw her siting at the bar in her parents’ living room. She’s like a drug. Just being in her presence sends me on a high I have never felt in my life. I wonder if I could ever be lucky enough to be her drug, her high, her fix like she’s quickly becoming mine.
I don’t want this night to end. I want to stay with her, holding her hand next to the fire as long as I can. How will I even make it through the next week? Five days is a long time to go between fixes.
The only solace I find in the thought of saying goodnight later is that it’s not goodbye. Sitting next to her on her parents’ back patio, I feel myself start to wish the week to pass as fast as it can. I’m enjoying every second of every minute with her more than I have ever enjoyed a moment with another woman in my life. And as much as it should scare me, as much as I have done everything I could this past year and a half to never get too close, I find myself shocked that it doesn’t seem to faze me one bit.
Evelyn
Returning home after Sunday night’s dinner, I collapse on my bed, feeling nothing but pure joy. I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. Actually, I’m probably happier than I have ever felt in the whole eternity of forever. I can’t wait until next Friday, and find myself giggling over the thought of it while I shower and get ready for bed.
I imagine every possible way Noah might plan our first date. “Our first date!” The phrase itself makes it impossible to wipe the silliest grin off my face. I debate texting Gwen to tell her all about the possible new man in my life, but fight it back wanting to keep it to myself a little while longer.
This is different, he is different. I find myself wondering, for about two seconds, if I should be worried I’m getting too close and very possibly might be letting myself go too far. I quickly shove the thought away because I want nothing to kill this high Noah gives me, figuring I will worry about that later if I need to.
We quickly managed to exchange phone numbers before the night was over while Rex was shouting obnoxiously for Noah to drive him home, and now I notice myself staring at my phone, wondering if I should text or call him first. I don’t want to seem too excited. When he had asked me out, I was bold, almost egging him on to do it. As I sit cross-legged and stare are the phone in the middle of my lap on my bed, I quickly decide I want to wait and see how eager he really is to see me again.
No one ever wants to be that girl, the overly needy one. I’m all for expressing my feelings, but not for seeming too desperate. Picking up the phone, I almost cave but then decide to stand my ground as I set the phone on my night stand and crawl under the covers, waiting impatiently for sleep—and hoping for delicious toe-curling dreams of the man I silently fear may be stealing my heart.
* * *
On Monday, my week starts off slow. Work at the paper is tedious, unexciting and uneventful. I find myself sending off emails and contacting people to form the same stories that typically run every week this time of year. I despise writing about upcoming events that the paper always covers. Racking my brain, I search social media looking at the pages of organizations and schools in the area trying to find something new to add to this week’s edition that will intrigue the readers and doesn’t sound the same as it did last year, or the year before that.
Finding nothing, I decide to write on Gatsby’s. I’ve already contacted the editor at the Auburn Journal and got his approval that he’ll run the set of stories as well. With most of the other towns close by, there are plenty of locals that would be interested in attending Gatsby’s events.
Monday slowly turned to Tuesday with no word from Noah. Michael stopped in the office to give me the details I needed on what was already in the works at the club. He never lets Rex handle any publicity and I absolutely can’t blame him for that.
When Wednesday rolls around, I’m still surprised not to have heard from Noah. A funk settles over me as I get to work and turn on my computer. It’s a funk not even a third cup of coffee and blaring rap music on the way to work was able to cure. The feeling has me slightly jaded, and I realize I might need to scale back my feelings because I’m totally starting to think he is not as into me as I am into him.
Around noon, I’m absolutely feeling worse and find myself staring blankly at my screen. I have been stuck on the same article that needed to be written for an hour and a half, and with deadline on this one article end of the day tomorrow, this is no time to be stumped. I’ve been alternating between staring at the facts I had scribbled d
own and staring at my computer screen. Then, I’d get up for a drink or use the restroom about every five to ten minutes, unable to find a way to push through my thoughts in order to get any work done. Now, I’m back to staring at the computer screen and glancing at my phone, pushing the center button for the third time in one minute to make sure I didn’t miss a call or text—though I already know I haven’t.
My office phone rings. Turning to look at who’s calling, I smile as I quickly recognize the number on the ID. This call might just be enough to break through the thick cloud that hovers over my thoughts. I need distraction more than anything right now, and this is just the person to do it.
“What’s going on, lady!?” I say, picking up the receiver.
“I’ve been driving since 4 a.m. and I am telling you, every time I make this damn drive, I swear it will be my last. Next time I’m flying or I’m never coming home again!” Gwen proceeds to shout into my ear. I can hear her window is down and the sound of big rigs are clear as she flies down the I5 on her way north. She curses at one of them before I can faintly hear her car accelerate through the line.
“You’re coming home?” I ask, shocked, excitement finally kicking in for the first time today. “You’re not supposed to be coming home until Christmas!”
“Plans changed. My mom and dad are being ridiculous, saying I never visit.” Gwen lets out an irritated sigh on the other end of the line. “And then there are a few other things, I’ll explain later. I had the time to take, so I took it. I’m staying with you, though, because after last visit if my mother and I spend longer than a few hours together, I swear someone will call the cops!”
I laugh for the first time all day because sadly her statement is very true. When first reunited, Gwen and her mother act like long lost friends. As time progresses though, and more wine is poured, the two proceed to tear each other apart. Last time I had to intervene and restrain Gwen from grabbing one of her mother’s expensive vases and hurling it across the room at her.
Gwen’s mother was Irish, and her father Italian. The combination does absolutely nothing to calm the fight that’s so naturally embedded on both sides of their genetic pool.
“Where are you at? Are you close to town?” I ask, excited that she’ll be the best distraction I could ever imagine. She’s sure to help me get my mind off of the one person I can’t stop thinking about. She might be able to lend some good advice too, seeing as I am starting to think everything I was sure about when it came to Noah might not be the way I believed it to be after all.
“I think I’m going to take off the rest of the afternoon and just work from home tonight. My head is so not into it today!” I’m ready to be anywhere else but at work right now.
“What’s the matter? Is your editor climbing up your butt again?” Gwen asks.
My editor is the definition of annoying, almost identical to the boss from Office Space. He throws work at me constantly and gets on my case for everything and anything. If it wasn’t for my love of what I do, I would have quit a long time ago. He’s a micromanaging, nitpicking, ready to through you under the bus every time just to make himself shine type of boss.
“Gwen, I’m not inclined to let anyone climb up my butt ever! It’s a long story, I’ll explain it later … Maybe …”
“Well, I’m about an hour out. I’ll meet you at your place, and we’ll drink wine and talk about whatever it is that has you all oppressed and melancholy!” Gwen says in a mocking, chipper tone.
“I do declare those are some big words for you, Ms. Gwen.” I laugh.
“Hey, I went to college,” she says. “Or if you’d rather, we can ignore it all and keep throwing glasses back until we are dancing on the dining room table. You know I’m down for anything. Now finish up and get your ass on home!”
“That’s more like it.” I laugh again. “I’ll meet you at my place.”
“Warm that damn place up before I get there too! Your place might be fabulously chic, but damn if it doesn’t feel like the Antarctic in the winter and the Mojave Desert in summer!” With that Gwen hangs up and I start contriving a plan for my best excuse in order to get out of the office.
Normally I would claim an assignment and just take extra time off, making up for it later in the week. Although I had already done that last week with my trip south. I managed to do some work on the road, but I know the boss won’t be all too happy with me leaving again.
Leaning back in my chair, I glance at my editor’s office and notice he is already gone. It has to be either an early lunch or an assignment he’s working on. Whatever it is, it’s the perfect opportunity to escape.
Hurrying, I shut down my computer, stash my notes in my oversized purse, and grab the few things I toted into work that morning. I’ll think up an excuse later. Gwen’s always full of great excuses, and I have definitely taken advantage of using her expertise on the perfect alibi in the past.
On my way home, I stop at the local store and grab wine and snacks. If there’s one thing bigger than my friend’s drinking ability, it’s her appetite, though I don’t know where she puts it. She’s a gorgeous redhead blessed with some amazing features that make many women jealous.
Hurrying through the local store, grabbing the perfect extras I need for the girls’ night ahead, I quickly check out and return to my car eager to head home. Gwen’s distraction is in fact putting me in a better mood. I had almost forgot about Noah and how he hadn’t even called. Almost!
As I round the corner to my street, my phone beeps in my center console. I glance at the screen and see it’s a message from Rex. When I slow down at a stop sign, I pick up the phone and try to read the text before I accelerate once again.
Rex: Next time you give a guy your number, make sure you give him the right one. Noah’s been trying to call you all week.
My heart drops. I can’t even begin to imagine how I had done such a thing. Could I really have entered it wrong when he had handed me his phone? I’ve never done something like this before, but maybe the pure excitement of the situation clouded my thoughts somehow, making it easy to stumble over my fingers. Whatever the reason, panic builds inside as I worry he will think I did it intentionally.
As I pull away from the stop sign, I scroll through my phone and find Noah’s name. I just hope he hadn’t entered his information wrong. If he had, that’s obviously my answer to how interested he is. But Rex said he’d been trying to call, so why am I even questioning it?
Selecting his name, I hear the phone start ringing as I pull up in front of my house. I hold my breath, waiting. After the first ring, my heart starts to beat faster. With the second ring, I can feel my heart in my throat. When it rings the third time, I swear I’m going to his voicemail and my heart sinks.
Then he picks up, and I have to remind myself to keep breathing.
“This is Noah!” comes what sounds like a slightly irritated voice on the other end.
“Noah! It’s Evelyn.” My voice is shaky, and I clear my throat, trying to buy time to settle my nerves. Of course I notice he remains silent and that just makes me more nervous. “I’m so sorry I gave you the wrong number Sunday.”
I wait for a response, but there isn’t one, just more silence. This is going worse than I thought. I wouldn’t be surprised if maybe he hung up on me. Stepping out of my car and grabbing my purse, I decide to come back later for the groceries after I hopefully don’t stumble over more of my words as I continue my horrible explanation.
“I must have accidentally hit the wrong buttons. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.” My voice is still kind of shaky, and I just hope my nerves won’t get the best of me and I won’t end up saying something stupid.
“I’ve actually been waiting, hoping you’d call all week. I didn’t want to reach out to you first. I mean it’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s more that I didn’t want you thinking I was too forward.” My nerves kick in as I start to fear what I might say next. I lock my car and grab the handle, jerking it twice to make
sure it’s locked.
Worried he had hung up, I ask, “Are you still there?”
I turn to start walking towards my house. I am taken back to see Noah standing on my front porch. I stumble with my next few steps. There he stands, three single stemmed roses in one hand and his other hand holding his phone up to his ear.
He doesn’t move any closer. And he doesn’t hang up. We both stand there with our phones to our ears and my mouth hanging open as I don’t know what to say next.
He smiles. “You’re adorably cute when you’re flustered!” he speaks into the line. Then, ending the call, he starts to close the distance between the two of us. With each step, I can feel my body temperature rising. Breathing. Breathing would be a good thing right now. Would it look ridiculous if I started fanning myself? Yeah, it would be ridiculous. I take a deep breath and watch with anticipation the closer he gets.
“How did you know where to find me?” I ask eventually, returning my phone to my purse. The butterflies in my stomach are almost uncontainable. I suddenly feel so nervous, the mere act of looking up to meet his eyes seems nearly impossible. Finally finding the courage, our eyes meet and it takes me a moment to regain my thoughts. The three days apart have done nothing to lessen the effect he has on me. It’s only the opposite as I stand there, wrapping myself around how sexy he is.
Fitted blue jeans with black boots, a white shirt hugging his body in every perfect way possible, and a ball cap pulled down low. He looks like he’s been working hard outside all morning but still manages to be put together nicely. His woodsy smell engulfs me once again as he comes to a stop in front of me, and I want nothing else but to be able to drench myself in it.
“When I finally realized I had the wrong number,” he begins, “I debated all the reasons why that might actually be.” Smiling, he tilts his hat back a little on his head. “I finally decided it couldn’t have been on purpose, so I asked Rex for not only your right number, but your address. You can’t get away from me that easily.” He winks, holding out the roses for me take.
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