“Mom, we’ve talked about this and we understand—all of it. We know about the consequences and the fact things may change or that this may be a complete disaster.” Boy, did we know about that. “But we’ve decided to give this a shot.” I hold her eye. “She’s worth it to me. More than anything else.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know.”
“Dad? Can I borrow your car?”
He nods and slips his hand into his pocket, then tosses me the keys.
“You’re really just going to let him go?”
“Yep.” Dad says, walking over and tossing his arm around her shoulder. “And you are, too.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I smile at my mom. “And I promise, this is going to be okay.”
I head out the door without looking back, not wanting to know what my mom will say next. She and I are going to have a serious conversation about my future very soon, but right now? I’ve got to pick up a girl for our date.
31
Norah
“Mom, I need to tell you something.”
“I like your dress. Going out with Trevor?”
The door chimes at the front of the house at the same time the phone rings.
“I’ll get it,” Olivia shouts, her feet banging down the stairs.
“One sec, honey,” my mother says, reaching for the phone. I’m trapped in the middle of a nightmare. One that begins and ends with me having to face reality.
“Hey Bonnie,” my mother says as I hear Olivia open the front door. Olivia, I can handle. My mom? Well, from the slow-moving realization crossing her face, I assume Gabe told his mom about our date.
Our eyes link for a moment and I skirt out of the room, where I find my sister holding the door wide open and Gabe standing in the doorway looking...oh my.
He looks good. Really good. Dressed up in a way I haven’t seen him since middle school graduation, although that’s a terrible comparison. Back then he wore slip-on sneakers everywhere and had never considered wearing a belt.
Not now. Now he’s all grown up with his dark curly hair tamed and for once, not hidden under a cap. The gray of his shirt makes his green eyes pop and he shaved, revealing a lean, strong jaw. His body is framed by broad shoulders and a long, slim torso.
I feel my skin prickle when his gaze skims from my head to my toes, taking me in.
Olivia looks between the two of us, gawking, until she regains her senses and mutters, “Finally,” before heading back up the stairs.
“Hi,” I say, feeling shy in the loose-fitting dress I’d unearthed in my closet.
“Hi.”
“So, um,” I gesture to the kitchen, “your mom and my mom are talking.”
“I hoped I could get here first.”
“Please, Bonnie Foster is faster with speed dial than an Olympic sprinter.”
“How’s your mom taking it?”
I sigh. “We have two options. We can leave now and find out later, or we can go face the music.”
“Don’t even think about getting out of this. I had to, you do, too. It’s part of the new arrangement, right?”
My mom’s voice carries down the hall and I press a hand against Gabe’s chest to stop him. I prefer to know what I’m getting into.
“Look, it’s not like we didn’t know this day was going to come,” my mom says, her tone rational and calm. “We’d always just agreed it would be better if they were older. At least they made it to their senior year.”
There’s a quiet moment as Gabe’s mother speaks, my mom patiently waiting. Finally, she says in slow, measured words, “Bon, we can’t control them forever, you know that, right? They’re going to make their own decisions and we have to hope we gave them the foundation to not screw up.”
While she speaks, Gabe runs his fingers against mine—the first time we’ve really touched in the past few weeks. His hand is warm, reassuring. I look up at him and he gives me a relieved smile. Our mothers always knew this relationship was a possibility—maybe an inevitability. It’s a strange sensation. A comforting one.
We may make it through this after all.
The breeze from the water is brisk, fall finally really settling in on the coast. The cobblestones are hard to navigate in the heels I’m wearing and more than once, I have to reach out to Gabe to steady myself.
I’m actually thankful for the breeze. I need something to cool off my face after my mom cornered the two of us and set a few new parameters now that we’re dating.
“Recovered yet?” Gabe asks as we near the strip of businesses that overlook the Pacific.
“I guess it’s hard enough for me to think about you and I in, uh, 'compromising situations' as she said, much less think about her thinking about it.” I look up at him. “If that makes sense.”
“Yeah, I know. I feel like I’m going to get another lecture when I get home, too.”
He slows at the entrance of The Grove, one of the nicest restaurants in town. I don’t know what I expected for our date, but it wasn’t this.
“Really?” I ask.
“We’re going on a real date. I thought this may be a good choice.”
It’s the kind of place written up in all the magazines and on foodie lists. We’d always made up stories about the rich and pretentious people that ate there. I think about it for a second and stop abruptly. “Holy cow. You’re one of the rich people now, aren’t you?”
He doesn’t answer, just reaches for the door and opens it for me. The interior is nice—not too nice, though. People want to feel like they’re getting an authentic experience. Gabe has made a reservation and we’re quickly taken to our seats—a small table next to the expansive windows. He holds the chair out for me.
“Laying it on a little thick, eh?” I ask as he sits across from me. He’d done all the right things. Coming to the front door, greeting my mother (even after we’d heard that phone call), talking to my very surprised dad, rushing to open my car door and now this.
“I saw it in a movie. The girl totally fell for the guy and all his impeccable manners.” He studies his menu and asks, “Is it working?”
I can’t help but smile. Adorable Gabe is my weak spot. “We’ll see.”
The waiter takes our drink order and we look over the menu. Seafood is their specialty but none of it sounds exactly appealing.
“Does this say 'lobster in rabbit marrow'?”
Gabe follows my line of vision. “Yes.”
“What’s rabbit marrow?”
“I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure out why anyone wants to have a full crab staring at you while you eat it.” He points at the table next to us, where a poor, dead crab is displayed on a platter and seems to be crying for help post-mortem.
I bark out a laugh, then slap my hand over my mouth, but Gabe starts to giggle and within moments we’re both hysterical and beyond saving. Through tears, he asks, “Want to get out of here?”
“Please.”
He tosses a few dollars on the table to cover our drinks and we rush out of the restaurant, hoping the crab doesn’t reanimate and come after us. It takes a moment for our laughter to stop, and we walk down the boardwalk less nervous than before.
“Now I know why we never went there,” I say.
“I know, I thought it was because we were broke. Instead it was because we’re not pretentious and actually want the faces of our food removed before eating them.” We’re near the pavilion and in the summer, this area is bustling with crowd and food stands. Today there’s only one place open. Mel’s Hot Dogs. Gabe inclines his head to the stand. “Want a hot dog?”
“Yes, that would be amazing.”
He orders us each two, slathering mine with mustard, just how I like it, and his with ketchup. I hold the hot basket of fries we’ll share. We sit side by side at a picnic table watching the fishermen head out to the pier. The only difference between tonight and any other is that we’re both dressed up fancy and he’s sitting so close I can feel his body heat against mine.
&n
bsp; It’s a clear night and the streaks of orange left by the sunset are starting to fade, Gabe eats his last bite of hot dog and shifts, straddling the bench to face me.
“Remember that time Ben entered the hot-dog-eating contest on the Fourth of July?”
“Ugh,” I say, looking down at the remainder of my dinner, “I’m trying to eat.”
He laughs. “Sorry.”
I shrug and shove in the rest of the hotdog and bun in a unlady-like manner, then lick the mustard off my fingers. Gabe watches my every move.
“I thought for a minute he was going to win,” I say.
“Me too, until he got sick.”
“So, so sick.”
We smile at one another and start to laugh again. The wind blows my hair across my face and Gabe reaches his hand up and tucks the strands behind my ear. A shiver, not from the cold, runs down my spine.
We stare at one another for a moment and I can’t help but think about how close he is and how easy it would be to kiss him right now.
“Maybe…” he says, whetting his lips, “uh, maybe we should head down to the end, see if any of the fishers had any luck.”
“Great idea.”
We toss our trash and head down the boardwalk. We’ve done this a million times before; checking the buckets of the fishermen, leaning over the edge of the railings to try to catch a glimpse of a sea lion. Tonight, our shoulders graze as we walk and halfway down his fingers brush against mine. A sharp tingling sensation rolls up my arm, followed by a sense of relief when our fingers link together. We reach the end of the pier and look down at the dark, rolling waves.
“Every time I stand here,” I admit, gazing downward, “I get this bizarre urge to jump. I have no idea why. I mean, you know I have a healthy fear of the ocean—”
“Of what lives in the ocean,” he corrects.
“Right,” I shudder, “sharks.”
“You’re not going to get eaten by a shark, Nor.”
“You don’t know that.” I glare at him.
“The odds of you actually getting eaten by a shark are—”
“Anyway,” I say, not wanting to have this discussion, again. “I have this strange desire to jump in, I think mostly because I wonder if I’d survive. Would I make it back to shore? Would someone have to come and save me? Would I drown?”
“Or get eaten by a Kracken?”
I face him and push against his chest, rolling my eyes in irritation. He loops his arms around me and pulls me close.
“I get it,” he says, green eyes searching mine. “Jumping into the unknown is both thrilling and scary. No lifejacket. Lots of dangerous things could happen. You could get hurt.”
“Badly.”
He touches my chin. “You’re not going into this alone, Norah. I’m in this with you and there’s no way I’d let you drown.”
I fuss with one of the buttons on his shirt. “Saw through that little story, eh?”
“You’ve never been hard for me to read, not until recently, but I think that’s because I wanted this—you—so badly that I couldn’t see straight.”
His arms feel perfect around me—strong and safe. The glint in his eye is both familiar and exhilarating—a promise of things to come.
“Is this the kind of moment where people would kiss on a first date?”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “I don’t have a lot of experience on that, but yeah, I think so.”
With his one hand pressed against my lower back and his other slipping beneath my hair and onto my neck, he pulls me close. I feel his breath against my lips and my heart thunders in my chest, just as hard as it had the first time we did this.
And how I hope it will each and every time from now on.
His approach is different, gentle, respectful. I react in kind, sinking into the way his lips and mouth feel moving against mine. My pulse hums and I taste the salt of the fries on his lips and as much as I hate it when we part, I press my cheek against his chest and hold him. We hold one another.
I hear the erratic beating of his heart against my ear.
If we’re going to do this, we have to create our own boundaries, one that appreciates our unique closeness while acknowledging how new and exciting this is.
“I felt a lot of pressure about tonight,” he confesses suddenly.
I look up. “You did? Why?”
“Because Trevor took you to the drive-in and plied you with candy. I had no choice but to go the other direction. Super fancy.” He sighs. “I should’ve known that would backfire.”
“This has never been a competition, Gabe.”
“I know, but when I want something I work hard to get it. You know that about me.”
I cup his cheek, rocked to hear how important I am to him. I feel the same way. “It’s in your nature.”
We release one another—well, other than our hands--and head back down the pier toward the boardwalk.
“Ugh,” I groan, halfway back.
“What’s wrong?”
“I guess I’ve got to let Trevor know I already have a date to the Festival.”
A slow smile lifts the corners of his mouth. “I guess that means we’re going to do this?”
“Yep. I’m swimming with the sharks.”
“Then there’s one other thing left to do.” His arm winds around my waist. “Are you telling him or me?”
Ben.
“Don’t try to throw this off on me,” I say, horrified at the thought. “Maybe we do it together.”
He nods.
“In public,” I add. “With like, a lot of food nearby. Carbs pacify him.”
“If you say so.”
“Speaking of carbs,” I say, looking down the boardwalk at The Creamery. The lights are still open. He laughs and squeezes me tight and we walk down the boardwalk, hand in hand, officially, publicly no longer just best friends but a real-life couple.
32
Gabe
We break the news over breakfast at Davie’s. Ben on one side of the table inhaling a stack of pancakes, me and Norah on the other. As usual, he’s half engrossed in his phone but even so, we keep our distance. Under the table I feel her leg bouncing with nerves, and I rest my hand over her knee.
“We have some news,” Norah says, pushing small pieces of waffle around her plate.
“Did you see this meme?” he says, holding up his phone. Norah pushes it back down.
“Dude, put down the phone. I’m trying to tell you something.”
Reluctantly, he lowers the phone. “What’s up?”
She glances at me and I nod. She opens her mouth to speak and nothing comes out.
I take over, going for the direct approach. “Norah and I are dating.”
He pauses, looking between us. “You’re what?”
“Dating,” Norah says, suddenly finding her voice. The words come out in a flood. “It’s new. Like really new and we know it’s weird. Like so weird, and we feel awful not telling you. We should have told you right away but we couldn’t figure it out and our parents and we promise nothing is going to change for the three of us and—”
“Nor,” he says, holding her eye.
“Yeah?”
“It’s fine.”
Her expression is confused when she looks at me again. “It is?”
He shrugs. “I mean, it’s not really a surprise. Delaney and I have been making bets about this for years.”
“You what?” her voice comes out a little shrill. I take her hand. “You’ve been placing bets on us?”
He shoves a forkful of pancake in his mouth and talks while chewing. “Well yeah, like, who would ask who out first? If Gabe tried to kiss you, would you punch him? If you tried to kiss Gabe, would he cry?”
I frown. “Why would I cry?”
“Because you’re a punk and obviously you’re not good enough for Norah, so you’d have it coming.”
I shake my head. Sometimes I wonder why this guy is my best friend. I mean, he’s a total idiot. Norah, on the other hand, l
aughs at his comment, only encouraging him.
“So you’re not mad?” she asks.
“Nah,” he wipes his hands on a napkin and tosses it on his cleared plate. “Mostly I’m just glad I don’t have to double date with you and Trevor to the festival.” He exhales loudly. “I was not looking forward to that.”
“Seriously?” I ask. “That’s all you care about?”
“I mean, I don’t want to see you two make out or anything, but I do want you happy and this has pretty much been in the cards for years.”
“That’s what my mom said,” Norah replies. “Are we the only ones that didn’t see it?”
“Probably,” Ben says, picking back up his phone. “You two always have your head stuck in a book or a sketchpad or on social media. It’s not like you’re really observant, even when it comes to yourself.”
It’s in that moment that Norah and I come to realize that Ben, our clueless, immature, irresponsible friend, may understand us more than we do ourselves.
And that may be the most revealing thing of all.
33
Norah
The weird thing about having all this out in the open is like with Ben, everyone already seemed to see it coming and no one really cares.
The first day we walk into Bazinga! with our hands linked, Bea just gives us a wide smile and proceeds to ask Gabe four million questions about the next issue of Photobooth Society that he just sent to the editor.
“Will we find out more about who created the photobooth? Will you reveal who is behind the Shadow Mask?” She looks down at our hands. “Does this mean Thea and Gunther finally have a chance?”
“Yes, no, and,” he looks at me and grins, “maybe.”
Bea jumps up and down behind the counter. “Finally! About the photobooth, not the rest of it. I’ve been losing sleep at night.”
We leave her at the front, passing by Wade, who is inventorying a shelf with the boxes of action figures. He nods at us, unblinking at the fact we’re walking in as a couple. On the way into the office I say, “I guess no one does care we’re together after all.”
Norah and The Nerd: Best Friends Romance (Love in Ocean Grove Book 4) Page 14
