by M. Leighton
She leans in, so far that her lips are inches from my chin, and she whispers up to me. “You have a choice.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Is that right?”
She nods, her tongue sneaking out to wet her already-glossy lips. “You can come help me get out of these pesky clothes or you can come back later for Poppy. Up to you.”
She presses against me once for good measure before she slinks on by, her ass wiggling enticingly as she walks toward the living room. She casts an inviting look back at me, winking as she grins, and then disappears around the corner.
In the space of what amounts to no more than the blink of an eye, I imagine what that body, unleashed, might feel like on a man. She oozes a raw sexuality that’s unexpectedly potent. And I sure as hell wasn’t expecting it. Or her.
But I’m not interested in that . With her.
Most men would be, but I’m not. Not only am I not interested in her, she’s Poppy’s roommate for chrissake. Her best friend. She might be willing to betray Poppy, but I’m not.
Without a word, I turn on my heel and walk out the door. I’ll find Poppy at the diner tomorrow night. I won’t make the mistake of being late again.
Or coming to her apartment unless I’m invited.
7
Poppy
I ’m disappointed that I haven’t seen Noah since our dinner. It’s been two days, and I keep hoping he wasn’t trying to let me down gently, but the later it gets, the more I’m convinced that he was.
I’m in the back, filling up a bottle of ketchup when Tilly swings through the doors. “Got something interesting in your back booth,” she says with a sassy wink.
My stomach flips over in excitement, and I squirt ketchup all over my thumb.
Tilly laughs. “You’re worse than a virgin.” Before I can respond, she ducks back through the doors. I can hear her laugh as she walks away, though.
I shake my head and set about cleaning up the mess that has run down the side of the bottle and smeared its way across my hand.
When I’m ketchup free, I take a few deep breaths and head out of the kitchen. I make a point of keeping my eyes trained straight ahead as I tend to my seated table before I allow myself the toe-curling luxury of glancing to where Noah sits.
I smile and kindly hand the older couple a full bottle of ketchup, asking if there’s anything else I can get for them. When they politely decline, I finally give in and let the gravity of Noah pull my gaze in his direction.
He’s staring at me when I look up, and my heart stutters in my chest. He’s clean shaven tonight, his hair still damp from a shower, and his broad shoulders are encased in a black T-shirt. The color sets off his subtle tan and makes the pale blue of his eyes pop from within the angles and planes of his perfect face.
My knees go weak with want and I realize I might be in more than a bit of trouble.
You’re pathetic, Poppy, I berate myself as I make my way slowly toward the back booth. I’m afraid to move any faster, afraid that I’ll trip over my own feet and land on my chin.
“Hi,” I say, too bubbly, when I stop at his table.
“Hi,” he says, his mouth twisting into a wry smile.
That smile… Wry or not, it still brings my insides to a boil. He’s simply devastating. That’s all there is to it.
I ask the first thing that comes to mind. “You here to eat?”
It’s a diner, you idiot! Of course he’s here to eat.
My cheeks heat and I have to force myself not to fidget nervously.
The corners of his eyes crinkle with a deeper grin. “Yeah. Unless you get off soon. I thought I’d walk you home.”
Pleasure—it courses through me in shimmering waves, rolling through my belly and up into my chest, flooding my face with a happy warmth.
“Well that works out well then. I’ve got another hour and a half left, so you’ve got plenty of time to eat.”
“Good enough.” He nods and leans back against the vinyl cushion. “I guess I’ll have a…ummm, how about a salad? I think I’ll start there.”
I pause. “A salad?” I repeat skeptically. “You watching your figure?”
“Do I need to?”
“God no!” I blurt. Instantly, I feel my cheeks go up in flames.
Holy mother! What’s wrong with you, Poppy?
In hopes of disguising what I’m really thinking, I keep a smile plastered on my face.
Noah’s grin turns lazy, languid. Teasing. “Is that right?”
Walk away, Poppy. Just turn around and walk away.
I turn to do exactly that when Noah’s smooth voice stops my retreat. “You don’t need to do that, you know.”
I swivel from the waist up and glance back at him. His blue, blue eyes, the bottomless pools that are waiting to pull me in and drag me under, are steady on me.
“Do what?”
“Pretend. Or be embarrassed. Say what you’re thinking. I won’t mind.”
“I might.”
“I wish you wouldn’t. I’d love to know what’s going through your head.”
Oh I just bet you would!
I give him an uncomfortable laugh and continue my escape, taking his order to the back and then leaning up against the prep station to catch my breath, away from his perceptive gaze.
That’s how Tilly finds me.
She starts shaking her head immediately, sauntering over to where I am and casually situating herself beside me. She even crosses her arms over her chest like I’m doing.
“I can’t do it,” I confess before she can say a single word.
“Yes, you can.”
“No. I really can’t. I’m not like you. I’m not…experienced enough for a guy like that. I go all to pieces just trying to talk like a functioning adult.”
“That’s because you’re trying too hard. You can’t do that.”
“I know. And I thought I’d gotten past that, but seeing him again… He just tears me up.”
“Then go with that .”
“How am I supposed to go with that? Just sit and stare at him all the time? Wear a bib to catch my drool and hope he carries the conversation?”
“You’re a ninny,” she deduces before turning to face me. “If you want him, let him know. He’s obviously got a thing for you. Run with it.”
“I can’t run with it. He didn’t even kiss me when we went out.”
“And did you kiss him ?”
“No! Gees!”
“Why do you say it like that? Knowing what you want and going after it is not a bad thing, Poppy. You don’t have to be as bold as I am, but for God’s sake, do something. Don’t just let him get away. Step up! Take what you want.”
“I’m just not like that,” I bemoan.
“Then learn to be like that. You don’t know what you’re capable of until you try.”
I cover my face, mortified by the very idea of coming onto him and being rejected.
“Don’t be a wuss,” she chastises, yanking my hands away from my face. “You’re beautiful, smart. You’ve got an ass I could bounce a quarter off of. What in the world do you have to lose? Because I can promise you, he is not going to let the opportunity to have a little bit of this pass him by.” She indicates me with a nod.
“Can you cut me off a chunk of your confidence and shove it down my throat before I go back out there? Thanks.”
Tilly grins. “Your head would explode if I even got some residue on you. Baby steps, sweet girl. Baby steps.”
She straightens, bumps her hip against mine, and sways off the way she came, whistling like she’s got not a worry in the world. I realize she’s probably right. I doubt I could handle what goes on in her brain. She’s only four years older than my thirty-three years, but there’s a lifetime of difference between us.
Tilly—she’s one of a kind.
I buck up eventually, taking some of Tilly’s advice to heart. Maybe tonight, if Noah doesn’t try to kiss me, I’ll try to kiss him. Maybe that will help ease this awful tension I feel.
I really do act like a virgin. Heck, I feel like one, too! It’s been a long time and, evidently, it shows.
Noah takes pity on me and doesn’t tease me or try to engage me much for the rest of my shift. Whatever his reasons for doing so, I don’t question them. I’m just grateful. It helps me to relax some, too, so that I’m not a bundle of crazy by the time I grab my purse and head toward the exit, and Noah waiting just beyond.
I can see him standing on the sidewalk, the light from inside the diner shining in the dark brown of his hair and turning his strong, bold profile to gold-kissed granite.
When I swing through the door, he turns. His eyes seem to eat up the darkness, absorb it until he’s looking at me through midnight, the pupils totally eclipsing any sign of the sky blue.
“Ready?”
I nod and we fall into a slow walk, side by side, toward my apartment.
There is no small talk. He can’t ask how my night was or how my shift went. He was there. He knows how it went.
I can’t ask him about his day or how it went because I know nothing about him, not even if he has a job.
“Do you work?”
It’s out before I can stop it.
“I work for the FBI. Sometimes I consult for the Chicago PD.”
My jaw wants to drop, but I still it. My interest is even more piqued. “FBI? Doing what?”
“Finding criminals.”
“What kind of criminals?”
He shrugs. “Different kinds.”
I nod and we keep walking. Our walk is more a meander, the perfect time for a few questions, but he doesn’t seem overly enthused to discuss work, and I really don’t know what else to ask since he only gives me short, vague answers. Finally, something comes to me.
“Are you from around here? Originally, I mean. Or did you move here from somewhere else?”
Are you from around here? Jesus, Poppy, that’s as bad as Do you come here often?
My cheeks actually burn after I ask such a cliché question. I decide that if he doesn’t answer, I’m just going to go with the silence. Maybe pray that it swallows me up.
“No, I’m from Maryland. I transferred to a different field office. I…I had to get away from where I was. Too many—” He stops himself, saying instead, “I just couldn’t stay around there.”
I wonder if he was going to say too many memories. I guess he changed his mind, and I can see why. I’m sure it’s considered bad form to talk a lot about an old flame with someone you’re currently dating.
If that’s what we’re even doing.
Whatever he was going to say causes my curiosity to spike again.
When we reach my building, I slide the key in and push open the door. I’m not even giving him the chance to leave now. I hold the door until he steps through and follows me up the stairs.
At my unit, I unlock the door (which is thankfully locked this time) and crack it before I turn to him. I feel steely. Bold. Resolved.
“Wanna come in?”
“I’d better not.”
I bite my tongue in frustration. What is it with this guy?
“Okay, well thank you for walking me home.”
Make a move, Noah! Make a move.
“It’s my pleasure. Same time tomorrow?”
That gives me a little burst of happiness. He plans to see me tomorrow, and to walk me home again. That’s something.
“Same time tomorrow.”
* * *
When Noah said “same time tomorrow,” he meant it. When I push through the door to leave, he’s standing in almost the exact same spot waiting for me.
My heart leaps with joy and my blood sings with the attraction between us.
“Hi,” I say, my smile shamefully huge.
“Hi. How was your day?”
“Fine. Yours?”
“Fine.”
At the same time, almost as though that’s where the easy conversation ends, we both turn to start the walk to my building. I wonder if it’s always going to be this difficult, this uncomfortable, or if I’ll ever get used to someone like him. To feeling this way.
“So how did you find Bud’s? I mean, you’ve been coming in for months. Do you live close?”
“Not very. A woman I work with said the food was good. Service was fast.” He shrugs. “She was right. I kept coming.”
I nod, already trying to think of something else to say. “So you just work with her? Or is she an old girlfriend?”
I’m so smooth. I need a muzzle. Seriously. I’m so bad at this.
“No, she’s not an old girlfriend.”
I try to act casual. Probably too little too late, but… “Oh, cool.”
“I’m glad she recommended it.”
I sneak a glance at him. He’s watching me.
“I am, too,” I tell him honestly.
We reach my building all too soon. As I did last night, I open the front door and step inside. He follows me again, which is good. Maybe this time…
At my door, I unlock the knob, leaving my hand on it for balance in case he kisses me and my knees buckle or something ridiculous like that.
When I look up, he’s so close. So close and so big and so beautiful.
I clear my suddenly dry throat. “Thanks again for walking me home.”
“No problem.”
“W-would you like to come in?”
Rather than answering right away, Noah just watches me, his eyes peering into mine like he’s looking for the answer. They dart down to my mouth and I almost gasp. He’s gonna do it! He’s gonna do it!
Only he doesn’t.
“I’d better not. Maybe another time.”
My fingers tighten around the door knob, my humiliation thick enough to nearly fell me. “Okay. Well, good night.”
“Good night,” he says, turning away.
Before I can close the door, I hear him say my name. My knees do get a little soft over that. “Yeah?”
“Same time tomorrow?”
I’m puzzled. Truly puzzled. But I’m game, too.
“Sure.”
With that he starts down the stairs and I’m left staring after him.
Wondering if I’m ever going to crack that egg.
* * *
I’ve spent the last half hour of my shift trying to think of what I’m going to say to Noah. Obviously I need to be prepared. This just doesn’t come naturally to me. But truly, I can’t think of anything. Well except for things that would probably go a long way toward him never coming back to see me again.
So I’m left with nothing.
By the time I push through the glass door and step out into the night, I’m already nervous. If only he talked more…
“Hi,” I say when I stop in front of him.
“Hi,” he replies just like he has before. “How was your night?”
“Busy. But that’s a good thing, I suppose.” I pat my pocket. “I made good tips.”
“I can’t imagine you not making good tips. You’re a good waitress.”
“I try.”
“And you’re beautiful. Men tip beautiful women.”
My lips pull up in pleasure. “You give compliments in the strangest ways.”
“There’s a strange way to give compliments?” He sounds dubious.
“I didn’t think so until I met you.”
“So I’m teaching you something new.”
“Yes, you are. I’m not sure I want to learn this though.”
Noah turns his head to look at me. “Then what would you like to learn?”
Was there a sexual connotation to that, or am I just desperate for there to be? For him to want me?
“There’s a lot of things I’d like to learn. Especially about you.”
I see the curtain fall and I regret my choice of words immediately.
“Is that right?”
He’s already distancing himself from our conversation. I can feel it like I can feel the breeze in my hair and the brush of his arm against mine every few steps.
<
br /> I scramble to find a way to turn this around, to erase erase erase my fumble.
“Yep. Things like whether or not you know a foreign language and if you had mumps as a kid. Things like did you play football and did you go to college. Things like whether your whole arm is tan or if you’ve got a farmer’s tan. You know, normal stuff.”
He stops abruptly and my eyes fly up to his. I find there’s a lightness to them that I’d almost say is humor.
Almost.
“What?” I ask.
“That’s normal stuff?”
I shrug. “Sure. Why not?”
He shakes his head and resumes walking. He doesn’t say anything else all the way to my building and I wonder if I’ll ever see him again. I can’t seem to keep myself from blowing it with this guy.
I unlock the front door, we mount the steps and I unlock my apartment door, all as I’ve done before. I turn to face him, to tell him goodnight possibly for the last time, but I’m brought up short when I see him standing behind me with his sleeve pulled up to reveal a beautifully formed deltoid muscle.
For a moment, I’m puzzled, but when I see that same lightness in his eyes, I realize what he’s doing. He’s showing me that his arms are tanned all the way up. No farmer’s tan. Just smooth, delicious, caramel skin.
“And yes, I played football. In high school and college.”
I try not to let my grin get too out of hand. I don’t know why, but I feel like I just made headway. Like I just witnessed something that was withered and dying spring back to life. Maybe not all the way, but I see improvement. I definitely see improvement.
“Good to know,” I tell him, nodding in approval. “I would invite you in, but you’ll graciously decline, so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
His lips twist again and a tiny dimple flashes at one corner of his mouth. It shimmers in my blood like flecks of gold, it’s so precious.
“Tomorrow.”
He turns to go and I watch him until I can see him no more.
* * *
Nine days.
Nine days in a row.
Noah has walked me home for nine days and has yet to kiss me. It’s beginning to make me feel really, really self-conscious. It’s also causing me some considerable frustration. Of the emotional and the sexual variety.
