Sour

by Jennifer Woodhull

  My mom comes downstairs a few minutes later, bringing my dad a bottle of beer. He leans down and kisses her lips, lingering just long enough to be a bit much for Andy and me. We exchange a look, rolling our eyes.

  Don’t get me wrong. I’m lucky my parents are still in love, but both Andy and I agree the PDA can be a little much. As a professor of psychology and a psychotherapist, respectively, you’d think they would realize this, but they seem to give zero fucks what people think of their open shows of physical affection.

  Mom settles on the stool beside me and leans in close. “That Noah is a good-looking man, Ariel. Are you sure you shouldn’t… oh what is it you kids say these days? Are you sure you shouldn’t hit that?” She snickers as she elbows me in the ribs.

  I briefly consider running up the stairs, getting in my car, and driving to Canada to start a new life under an assumed name.

  “We’re friends, Mom.” I say quietly. “And Andy and I aren’t kids anymore. I’m almost twenty-eight. Andy’s twenty-five.” I shake my head, willing the crimson I can feel creeping up my cheeks to subside, but knowing it won’t.

  After they finish the game, Mom slides down from her stool and takes Dad by the hand. “Come on, Paul, Andy. Ariel already set the table. You boys help me put the dishes out.” She passes near Noah and runs her fingertips along his shoulder. “Noah, be a dear and put the balls and cues away, would you?” She winks at me, and my family ascend up the stairs.

  “Seriously, you didn’t think you should tell me you’d be at my house?” I fold my arms as my gaze follows Noah around the pool table. He gathers the balls from each leather pocket, easily palming several in his broad palm at once, and places them in the center of the burgundy felt.

  “It was a last-minute thing.” He shrugs, stepping forward as he puts the two pool cues away in the rack behind my head, boxing me in. Even though I’m perched on a tall stool, he still towers over me. My arms unfold and my palms reach down to clutch the sides of the stool to brace me. My skin prickles at his close proximity and my thighs clench as if guarding against my body’s urge to wrap itself around him.

  “Is it a problem, Elle? Do you not want me here?” He has a faint look of hurt in his gorgeous blue eyes.

  I roll my eyes. “No, of course it’s fine. I’m just surprised, that’s all. Since when do you talk to my brother?”

  “We follow each other on social media. We text sometimes…he invited me to dinner.” Noah puts his hands on his hips, standing completely in my personal space.

  I crane my neck to look up at him. His crotch is mere millimeters away from my knees. I can smell that woodsy after shave he wears. Christ, did he get bigger in the last twenty-four hours? I feel like he’s taking up all the space in the world and I cannot possibly get small enough to escape him.

  “Okay, well, let’s go up.” My eyes dart to the stairs, willing someone—anyone—to descend them and interrupt whatever this weirdness is. “I don’t want my Mom to think we’re up to anything.” I shift uncomfortably on my seat.

  “What would we be up to, Elle?” He wrinkles his eyebrows and flashes a dirty smirk as he steps forward a little more, making my channel ache with desperation.

  “Um… I…,” my mouth is suddenly dry. “I don’t know,” I almost whisper. “Shenanigans?” I laugh nervously.

  Noah taps the tip of my nose with his index finger, and takes my hand, steadying me as I jump down from the stool, and we go up to the dining room.

  L

  After an amazing meal of pot roast, potatoes, and carrots, we clear the dinner dishes and cut the cake, retiring to the den to watch the vacation video my dad has compiled.

  I have to admit, Dad has done an amazing job, but I suspect that Andy—being the family shutterbug—has helped, based on the production quality. Don’t get me wrong, my dad is a talented and intelligent guy. He has advanced degrees, after all. He’s not especially technically inclined, though, as much as he wants to be.

  We watch a forty-minute movie which features my Mom and I in dirndls and braids, and my dad and brother in lederhosen repeatedly. There are images of my dad and Andy drinking from beer steins that look big even in comparison to their gigantic stature, and my mom and me soaking in the thermal hot springs. There’s footage of us in the house of cuckoo clocks, and photos of us all cheesing in front of Linderhof Palace.

  Throughout the video, Noah is smiling and laughing, asking my dad questions, and exchanging commentary with my mom and Andy. It’s like he’s right at home with them, as if he’s been there a million times. I start to wonder if my family is hanging out with Noah without me, behind my back.

  After we watch the video, we exchange goodbyes.

  “Noah, maybe you should come with us on the next Bailey Family Bonding Adventure,” my dad pats him on the back, and I die of embarrassment at the thought of my cool, sexy, funny, gorgeous BFF being forced into the costumery of our next holiday destination.

  “Thanks, Dr. Bailey,” Noah says with a smile, putting his fingertips gingerly on my back as we walk toward the front door. “I might take you up on that.” He winks at me and my traitor heart flutters.

  I hug my parents and my brother, and walk out the door, Noah right behind me.

  As I walk toward my car and get in the driver’s side, Noah opens the passenger door and gets in.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Um, going home?” Noah replies nonchalantly. “Charlie dropped me off, remember?”

  We barely talk on the way back to Noah’s place. He drums his fingers on the dashboard in time to the radio, seemingly oblivious to my frustration.

  “So, you talk to my brother?” I ask as we pull into Noah’s driveway.

  “Not every day or anything. Like I said, we talk about sports sometimes, that kinda thing. He’s a good guy, though. I like him. I like your whole family. They’re nice.” He grins, and I have to admit, the idea that he likes my crazy, cheesy clan makes my heart smile.

  “You just seemed awfully chummy, that’s all. I just wanted to make sure they weren’t trying to replace me with a boy of the appropriate height for my family of giants.”

  L

  At Noah’s, we grab a couple of beers and plop down on the sofa to watch Friends. After a few minutes of watching me fidget, Noah disappears into his bedroom, returning a few minutes later tossing a pair of sweatpants and my favorite t-shirt, the one he keeps stealing back from me, into my lap.

  “Here. You seem uncomfortable. Go change.” He rolls his eyes.

  “You are the best.” I bat my eyelashes before I disappear into the bathroom to change.

  When I return from the bathroom, he is lounging back on the sofa, taking up more space than is reasonable for a single human being. I plop down on the other end, propping my feet up on the coffee table.

  “So, I was saving it as a surprise, but…,” Noah trails off.

  “But you can’t keep secrets because you get too excited.”

  “You know it!” He exclaims, pointing to me. “Anyway, about our trip next week… Jordan wants us to host a few of the high-end buyers. He was thinking a fancy cocktail soiree would do the trick. I had Jessica check, and all the small conference rooms were booked, so, I had them upgrade us to a two-bedroom suite with a huge living room. We can host the event there.” He grins, clearly proud of himself. “Pretty clever, huh?”

  “Ooh, that does sound pretty snazzy. I like it! What do I need to do?” I am thrilled at the prospect of staying in a swanky suite I could never afford, and even more excited at the prospect of sharing space with Noah while we’re in Sin City so I can keep an eye on him.

  “Just show up. I got Jess to organize everything. So, dig out that fancy dress, pour on the charm, and make our clients fall in love with you.” He wriggles his eyebrows.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll bring everything I’ve got.” I wink.

  “One more thing…,” he trails off. Whatever he’s about to say has to be
good because he’s grinning like an idiot.

  “And that would be…?”

  “I extended our trip. Since we blew out the sales goals for last quarter thanks in no small part to your brilliant social media campaign…,” I interject before he can finish.

  “Hashtag findyoursummit” I say, crossing the first two fingers of each hand to simulate the hashtag sign.

  “Exactly. Anyway, as a reward for the hard work, we get to take a couple of extra nights in Vegas.” He smiles that big, easy, toothy smile I love so much. “Pretty sweet, huh?”

  He puts up his hand and I return his high five.

  “Nice job, Adler! So, what sort of trouble can we get into while we’re in Vegas?”

  “Oh, I’ve got all sorts of ideas planned,” he smirks, and his tone sounds surprisingly dirty.

  “Such as…?” I grab a mini bag of M&Ms from the bowl of candy I keep on his coffee table.

  “Well,” he replies as I rip open the pack and pour the colorful little chocolaty disks into my mouth, “We could go to one of those quickie wedding chapels and get married.”

  An image of Noah, smiling down at me as we stand in front of a white altar, him wearing a tux that makes him look like the spokesmodel for a high-end luxury car, flashes through my mind.

  Within seconds, I am choking on M&Ms, not breathing, and have to sit up, pounding my chest with my fist.

  Noah’s expression droops from self-congratulation at his joke, to one of concern.

  “Elle! Are you okay? Do you need the Heimlich?”

  I swallow hard, shaking my head vigorously back and forth. Noah stands and walks over to me, leaning me forward and rubbing his palm across my back in large circles like you would to a choking five-year-old. I take a swig of my soda and finally dislodge the chocolaty disk.

  “Why in the world would you say that?!”

  “I was joking.” Noah replies with a shrug. “Come on, Elle. You know your parents would never stand for such a thing. If Doc Bailey doesn’t get to show up in a nineteenth century tux or a disco suit to walk you down the aisle, he’ll die.” He winks.

  I laugh. “Well, you do have a point. So, without putting my ability to breathe in jeopardy again, what do you really have in mind for Vegas?”

  “Not so fast.” His brows dip as he slices his hand back and forth through the air. “I need clarification.”

  “On?”

  “Well, I made a joke about going to a quickie wedding chapel and you almost died. I’ve gotta say, Elle, that’s the sort of thing that could hurt a guy’s feelings.”

  I laugh.

  “I mean, am I really so awful that the idea of marrying me is so repulsive?” His head cocks to the side a little, and his brows raise in question.

  “Be serious,” I reply with a chuckle.

  “I am serious. Is that really what you think of me?” He slumps back onto the sofa and looks at me.

  This is a Noah look I know well. His feelings are hurt, and I feel like the total asshole I obviously am. I turn to face him on the sofa.

  “Noah, are you kidding me? You are the catch of catches. You’re amazing. Any girl would be lucky to marry you.” As I say the words, another thought flashes in my mind, of Noah marrying someone—anyone—and being snatched from my life forever, and I feel sick.

  “Really?” His voice is low. Cautious.

  “Of course. I mean, you’re funny, you’re smart, you’re the nicest person I know—almost annoyingly so,” I roll my eyes and grin.

  His smile returns and I feel better.

  “You forgot good-looking,” he adds with a smirk.

  “No. No I didn’t.” I smirk back, crossing my arms.

  “Ouch!” He shakes his head, chuckling. “That’s it, I’m canceling the surprise I had planned for us.”

  “No way! I’m sorry.” I smile sweetly.

  “Nope.”

  “Come on, Noah! Please? Pretty-pretty please? Tell me,” I beg.

  “No, you clearly can’t be seen in public with me anyway, since I’m an ogre.” He crosses his arms and turns away from me, feigning anger. It is equal parts annoying and adorable.

  I sit up on my knees, place my palms on his cheeks, and turn his gorgeous face toward me.

  “Noah,” I say his name seriously, tipping my head forward to stare into those stunning, azure eyes of his. “You know you’re good-looking. I’m not going to placate you.”

  He juts out his bottom lip, and I muster every ounce of strength in my tiny body to keep from leaning forward, planting my lips on his, and sucking on that deliciously full bottom lip. I close my eyes, hard, then open them again.

  “But,” I continue, “Your face, is the best face. It is my absolute favorite, and only an idiot wouldn’t agree.”

  He smiles, but his eyes don’t glimmer with that typical spark that usually accompanies that broad, bright smile of his. His eyes are…dark…mysterious. There’s something there I can’t quite place. I don’t love that he is suddenly busting out all these new facial expressions, making it so hard to read him lately.

  “Thank you,” he replies quietly, after too long a pause. He uncrosses his arms and wraps them around my shoulders, pressing his forehead to mine. “Your face is my favorite face too. Your face is the best face.”

  I blush, my heart pounding so hard I’m afraid he’ll hear it.

  “So,” I clear my throat and lean back on my heels to break our contact. “What is this big surprise you have planned for us?”

  “Well, I thought we could drive out and see the Grand Canyon. I’ve never been, have you?”

  “No, I’ve never been either. I would love that! What a great idea,” I smile so broadly it makes my cheeks hurt. There are few things in life as fun as a road trip with Noah.

  “Consider it done!” He raises his hand with a flourish.

  It’s a shame that I can’t meet a guy who would be this sweet to me, this thoughtful, that’s interested in actually dating me instead of just being friends. If I did, though, he’d probably want all of my attention, and giving up my Noah time is not something I’m really interested in doing. Plus, there is the small detail that I’m in love with the guy sitting next to me. That’s really going to put a damper on any dating relationship I try to enter into.

  L

  I drive home a few hours later, still wearing Noah’s too-big sweatpants and my favorite t-shirt, which I must remember to hide so he doesn’t steal it back.

  When I slide into bed, I know sleep won’t come. My mind is racing. It flashes with a million different thoughts. My parents, laughing and talking with Noah. A Las Vegas suite all to ourselves. Him joking that we should get married. Then, worst of all, back to the image of him when I first got home from Germany, standing in my bedroom.

  At the foot of my bed.

  This bed.

  This t-shirt, the one I’m wearing right now, was the one he put on that night.

  My body aches so much, I’m sore. Any other time, I would slide out of my panties, and as keyed up as I am, I would be able to find a quick release. Tonight, though, I can’t do that because of the contest. Sure, I could do it anyway. There’s no way Noah could prove I had, but he knows me too well. If I lied, he’d be able to tell, and I want to win fair and square.

  I just hope I didn’t make a mistake with my prize. I don’t know what possessed me to write down what I did. Assuming I win, and I plan to, if he reads it and laughs, I’ll just tell him it was a goof.

  But maybe he won’t laugh.

  Maybe that’s worse. Because maybe, if he doesn’t laugh, he’ll be mad, or think I’m weirder than he already does. Or maybe, he’ll think it’s a good idea, and he’ll be up for it. If he is… well, then maybe I’ll be in even bigger trouble.

  Chapter 9

  Noah

  The weather in Las Vegas is spectacular when we arrive. Elle has on a pair of snug black pants, and a long, flowy top in bright blue. The color mak
es her eyes look like they’re lit from within. When the daylight hits her face, they look like little circles of blue stained glass with the sun shining through them. We grab our bags and hop in a rideshare for the fifteen-minute drive to The Venetian, the hotel that’s hosting the outdoor conference.

  As we wheel our bags into the expansive tiled lobby, Elle looks up at the painted panels on the domed ceiling and giggles. “Whoa! This place is amazing!” Her smile is wide and I’m insanely proud that I’ve been able to pull off being able to bring her here.

  As we walk toward the reception desk, her phone rings, and she looks down at it, furrowing her brow.

  “Hey, this is McMasters. I need to take it.”

  “Okay, no problem.,” I look around and there’s a short line at check-in. “Just stay here with our bags, take your call and I’ll get our room keys.”

  This works out to my advantage, actually, since it allows me to give the front desk my personal credit card for the extra nights without Elle seeing anything that raises her suspicion. When I walk back over, she has one arm across her chest, the other close against her body, still holding the phone. Her lips are drawn into a flat line, and her brow is furrowed.

  “Yep, I understand. No, thank you. I just appreciate the opportunity. Of course not. I definitely will. Okay, then, bye.” She hangs up.

  “Everything okay?” Her crestfallen expression when she hangs up the phone makes me want to pull her close and hug her.

  “Yeah, I..,” she looks up at me with those big eyes of hers. “I just got some news.” She shakes her head. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

  “You’re scaring me, Elle. What’s going on?” I drop my briefcase onto the top of the rolling suitcase and cross my arms over my chest, feeling as if I might need to brace myself.

  “Nothing like that—just something I was keeping to myself until I knew one way or the other.” She closes her eyes, pushes out a short breath, and wrinkles her brow before meeting my eyes. Her shoulders are rolled forward, her posture stiff.

  “You know how there has been talk about replacing Murphy?”