Rash Decisions

by Alex Rosa

  With that, he opens my office door without waiting for my response. Not that I had one.

  It isn’t until the door closes that I breathe again.

  Jeez, the man has the qualities of outer space; eyes that look infinite, and a presence that tends to suck all the oxygen out of a room.

  In space no one can hear your scream … or moan …

  I curse myself under my breath. I can’t. I won’t.

  Noah, think of Noah!

  When the heavy knocking at my door sounds, I nearly trip as I leap off my couch. As a rash decision, and a way to somehow show Noah that I didn’t mean to blow him off earlier, I invited him over tonight. I didn’t want to give someone like Troy the pleasure of forcing me to cancel my date night.

  I practically growl thinking about it as I approach my front door, then just as quickly shake myself of it.

  Not only did I beg Noah via text to skip out on his evening jog routine and beer with the boys, enter eye rolling, but I wanted him on my home turf. Somewhere I didn’t feel intimidated by the looming city or his brute build …well, I’d be intimidated in the best way by his build regardless. I just wanted a place where I could be me. I told him it required comfy clothes, and for him to pick a movie.

  I reach for the doorknob, holding my breath, knowing that whatever waits beyond this door is going to have me a bit wobbly.

  I pull the door open.

  “Hey, gorgeous,” he says just above a whisper as the corner of his mouth lifts, forcing me to recognize that his stubbly face makes him all the more appealing.

  I finally exhale when I lay my eyes on him. “Hi.”

  Does he have to make sweatpants and a tee-shirt look so adorably handsome? The maroon tee stretches mouth-wateringly over his broad chest. I peer down at my loose pajama bottoms, and tug nervously at my fairly tight v-neck, black Henley, wishing I had the want to be more sophisticated, but no. This is who I am.

  “Please, come in.”

  Confidently, Noah leans in, placing a sweet kiss on my cheek, always the gentlemen.

  “I’m so happy I got to see you tonight,” he says as he moves past me. “Show me your apartment.”

  I swivel around to see Noah already striding down the short hall to my living space. I scamper toward him to catch up, and cut him off as he enters the room, half the modest living room, and the other my kitchen, and on the far back wall a door leading to my bedroom.

  I stop him in the middle of the room, extending both hands out, presenting the space to him. “This is my apartment. Everything the light touches is mine.”

  He places his scarf and jacket over the barstool to his right while releasing his gooey-caramel laugh. “I love your apartment,” he replies. “It’s—“

  “—Small and embarrassing?”

  He laughs again, reaching out for me this time, carefully watching my wry smirk form. His hands feel cold from the outside as his palms press against the inch of bare skin above my pajama bottoms. “I was gonna go with quaint and perfect. I like the red brick of the walls.”

  I tilt my head. “It’s home. I kinda love it. I didn’t want big.”

  “They may call it the Big Apple, but big isn’t really a thing when it comes to living space.”

  He leans in, this time placing a kiss on my lips. I allow it longer than I should. His face and lips are still chilled from the outside, too.

  I hum, pulling an inch away from his face, my eyes bouncing back to his. “You’re cold.”

  “Keep me warm?” he replies with a devilish smirk.

  I smack his chest playfully and take a step back. “Whoa there, cowboy. I think you need to settle down.”

  He laughs, shrugging. “Sorry. I didn’t know I’d like you in p.j.’s more than that skirt when we first met.”

  My cheeks overheat, and I have half a mind to open the window even though I know it’s flurrying outside.

  I watch him, maybe anxiously, brush a hand through his tousled hair.

  “What movie did you bring us?” I ask through squirming lips, not knowing how to respond to Noah’s comment.

  He takes a deep breath, his eyes softening, as if this is a much easier topic to approach after his surprising confession. He’s so adorable it’s ridiculous.

  Even I have to nervously twirl a piece of hair between my fingertips as I watch him. What am I, fifteen? Are we going to snuggle on my couch watching a movie, and hope my parents don’t walk in? Nope. My parents are four thousand miles away. Plus, I’m an adult for goodness sake. I gulp at the thought knowing Noah is all mine tonight. My skin prickles with nerves.

  “I brought us …” he announces as he grabs for the DVD off the counter. “A disgustingly awesome, indie horror film. It’s called Curdled. Ever heard of it?”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Uh. No. Horror, Noah? This is why I shouldn’t have trusted a boy.”

  He leans in close. “You mean: man.” He reveals his full HD, Technicolor grin as if he’s been practicing it since birth, because well, practice makes perfect.

  I so badly want to roll my eyes at him, but I don’t. “Tell me about this movie”

  I grab for his hand, looking away as I tug him toward my couch.

  It only takes a few steps to reach it. I push him down to take a seat, and snatch the movie from his grasp. He’s watching me with playful eyes that match his smile.

  “You’ll love it. It’s this creepy suspense about a woman who’s obsessed with a serial killer running rampant in Miami, and so she gets a job cleaning up after crime scenes. She becomes so obsessed she goes back to the murder scenes at night to snoop around, until one night, the killer is there. They do this odd, sexual tango together when they meet, and it’s kinda hot actually, and then—“

  My laughter cuts him off as I put the DVD in the player, and stroll back toward him, “Stop, or you’ll ruin the whole movie!”

  Noah grabs for my arms, pulling me toward him. I fall onto his lap, lying over his legs as he cradles me close.

  “You might actually like this movie. It’s Quentin Tarantino before he went all hipster.”

  I laugh again, and every time I do I can feel Noah’s hands on my body squeeze gently. It almost feels like a super power, and I can’t help but ponder a way to continue laughing, but I eventually stop.

  “I’m excited,” I quip.

  “Good. Plus, if you get scared, I’ll be right here if you need me.”

  I exaggerate a look of shock, peering at his hands nestled around my body then back at him. “Ya don’t say! Thank goodness my boyfriend cop is here to save me in case I get scared.”

  I feel that gentle squeeze again, and I don’t know why, but my lungs constrict, almost suffocating me. It’s my nerves. They’re fighting back, and I cannot figure out why.

  “So…” he hums. “Am I your boyfriend?”

  I cough. Okay, not the best response. I did just say that, didn’t I?

  “I don’t know.” I bashfully say, feeling strange that I’m already so comfortable and close to Noah when technically this is only our second date.

  His thick brows furrow over skeptical eyes. “I’m not going to pressure you on that one.”

  “Thank you,” I quip, letting out an exhale that my lungs finally allow. I think my body and mind are reminding me that this is all still very new. I can’t help but hear my mother’s harping voice in my head, like when she’s scolding my dad, don’t go putting all your eggs in one basket, girly …

  “Julia, you okay?”

  I peek up at him through my lashes. “Yeah, of course. Let’s watch this movie.”

  He smiles sweetly this time, as if pulling back a bit. I can tell he thinks he’s overwhelming me. I wish I could tell him it’s me and not him, but obviously that would be the shittiest line in the book. Instead I ask, “Do you want some wine, or water? I have soda. I can make us popcorn.”

  “Does that mean I have to let you go?”

  I bite my bottom
lip, thankful that sweet and kind is Noah’s natural state, but I need air.

  “Unfortunately, you do, but what would you like?”

  He releases me and says, “First off, soda is bad for you, but wine is always good.”

  I clamber off him and scurry to my kitchen with a bit too much skip to my step as my feet hit the linoleum. However, I come to a squeaking halt as my eyes land on my empty wine rack.

  “Good grief…” I sputter.

  “What’s wrong?” Noah asks from the couch, helping himself to the remotes on the coffee table, setting up for the movie. Why are all men so naturally tech savvy?

  I unceremoniously huff with my bottom lip puffing out, blowing a stray hair from my face, not out of necessity, but out of frustration.

  “Nothing. I just realized I’m out of wine. Just days ago I had two bottles, but … well, let’s just say me and my neighbor are friends now.”

  He hums. “The pretty blonde?”

  I wince, turning the opposite direction so he can’t see it. So, he did notice her. I guess it’s hard not to notice Megan’s beauty. It has me thinking of my life in California, and always coming second best to my friends.

  “Julia …”

  I fake a goal as I open my fridge, searching for absolutely nothing. “Yep?”

  “So, is she nice? She seemed kind of like a bitch.”

  I release a pent up breath I wasn’t aware that I was holding, and swivel back around like a teen girl with PMS mood-swings as I flash a stupidly bashful smile. “She is … nice. I mean, but she’s also a bitch, in a good way. More like, honest. Does that make sense? I stumbled upon the friendship when you left Saturday night. She was at her door, all tub of ice cream upset over a break up. We bonded. At least, I think we’re friends now.”

  “Huh. Go figure. Well, I’m glad to see you’re meeting new people.”

  I almost want to react to the comment, but I don’t, knowing that my defense would involve a witty seven year old as my bestest acquaintance, and I doubt that’ll benefit the cause.

  “Yeah, friends are a good thing. That being said, I’m all out of wine. How about tea as a healthy alternative?”

  From the other side of the room I watch Noah stretch out his muscular arms over my modest, olive green sofa, the length of his body is the length of the couch. I can openly admire his physique from here as he leans his head back, peering out the windows. The snow is getting thicker around the sill as it continues to fall. “Tea sounds nice. I’m cold, remember?”

  I nod, biting my tongue, wanting to say I thought warming you up was my job? But I refrain. “How does peppermint tea sound?”

  “Anything works. Sounds good.”

  I grab for my electric kettle, pressing it on before seeking out a bag of popcorn and tossing it into the microwave.

  Having Noah across the room gives me some breathing room, but also allows me to stare deeply into those hazel eyes no matter the distance.

  “Noah, tell me about your family. You said your dad’s a cop. What about your mom? Have any siblings? Is your family close?”

  He nods through the questions. “Um, yeah. I guess we’re close. My mom is a retired teacher. She’s sweet. My Dad can be kind of a jerk by nature, but he means well. My mom keeps him in check. He hates making her upset, and she knows how to wield it.” He brushes his hair out of his face as he shrugs. “I have two siblings, an older brother, and younger a sister. My brother is nice, but he’s just as much of an ass like my father when he wants to be, and my sister, well, she’s a pill. She just started college at NYU and for being so smart she gets into an awful lot of trouble. My parents baby her, and it doesn’t do her any good. I’ve had to pull the I’m-a-cop-thing to bail her out a couple times. I decided though, a night in a jail cell might do her good.”

  “Oh jeez. What does your sister do to warrant that?”

  Noah stands, laughing as he walks toward the kitchen. He makes it to me in four strides. “Kid stuff. Usually she gets too drunk at parties and throws punches. So, if it isn’t drunk in public, it’s assault.” This time Noah can’t stop laughing. “I guess it’s the only thing she knows when she’s grown up with two brawling brothers. She’s feisty.”

  I turn my body toward him, looking up at him. He’s smiling, but his eyes look sad. “She’s in college. Kid stuff or not, you do stupid things when you’re young. Your sister will grow out of it. ”

  “I’m sure she will. What about you? Family life? Did you move out here for family?

  “Ha!” I blurt out. “Yes and no.”

  Noah reaches out the few inches to rest his hands on my hips. It’s his favorite thing to do apparently, not that I’m complaining.

  “Bad topic?” he questions.

  “Not necessarily. My uncle lives here, and he offered me a job, so I took it. Actually, he’s been offering me the job forever. Sometimes, I tell myself I left to be closer to my uncle, then sometimes I tell myself I did it to get away from my father, and then I think maybe I did it as an easy way of dumping my boyfriend at the time.”

  His jaw clenches. “Which reason is it?”

  I let out another, “Ha!” and then leap at the sound of the kettle and microwave beeping in unison.

  I walk out of his grasp, using the microwave as my excuse to put some distance between us. I don’t want this topic to get in the way, but I can’t help my distaste for it. Although, I want nothing more than to be honest.

  I speak, knowing I’m letting the silence hang too long. “The truth of the matter is, all of it is true, but I could bundle it all into one sentence. I left Los Angeles to take control of my life. If it wasn’t my Dad demanding everything of me, from college to my career, or Tyler telling me to live a certain way to make him feel less like a failure, it was everyone else. I don’t know what happened. I just woke up one morning realizing I had never made one damn choice for myself. Every time my uncle came into town I think he could see it even before I did. I’m not sure. He’d offered me a job with his company even during my first year at UCSD. It was like he knew. He’d say things like, if you come to New York you can be whoever you want. It’s the city you need, sweetie. Like, who says that, right?”

  As I pour the hot water into two mugs I glance at Noah. He’s nodding like he gets it, but I’m not convinced. I’m talking too much.

  I grab for two tea bags, plopping them into the cups. “Sorry. I should stop.”

  With too much confidence for his own good he steps toward me. “No, don’t.” He shakes his head, and I worry he’s laughing at me now.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Have you told anyone about all this? You look a bit pent up.” He rubs his palm over my shoulders, and my shoulders sink at his touch. “See,” he says to prove his point. “Just relax.”

  “I haven’t told anyone but my therapist,” I reply. “And when I did, she didn’t really think that my plan of leaving in the end was a very good idea—”

  “—Of course it was.”

  “How would you know that?” I raise a quizzical brow, wondering if under all that crime-fighting muscle he could have the natural intuition of a psychologist.

  “If you didn’t finally go live your life for yourself, you would have never tripped on the ice and fallen into my arms.”

  I turn around to face him, baffled, my eyebrows gathering between my eyes. “You’re way too good for me.”

  “I don’t think a woman has ever said that to me.”

  I grab for his mug, handing it off to him as I guffaw. “That means you must have a past, and maybe I should be careful.”

  He grabs the mug robotically, watching me carefully as he chews the inside of his cheek. “We all have a past, Jules.”

  Amen to that.

  It’s not the answer I was expecting though, and it’s too deep of a topic to cover on the second date.

  I grab for my mug, and push a smile onto my lips, deciding that I won’t let the comment tarnish what
we have. It’s innocent for now, and what’s between us is between us, and what is in the past is in the past.

  I stand up on my tiptoes, cradling my tea close as I place a chaste kiss on his lips.

  His stubbly cheekbones rise with a wide smile.

  “Let’s go watch that movie, huh?” I say as I snag the bag of popcorn and walk toward the living room with Noah trailing behind me.

  After tossing the bag on the coffee table, I press play with the remote in one hand and sip my tea with the other. Noah takes a seat onto the couch, placing his mug onto the coffee table. As the opening credits begin, I do the same.

  Noah’s given me little to no room on my couch. “And where am I supposed to sit?” I ask.

  He doesn’t answer, and instead grabs for my wrists, tugging me back into his lap as he lies back with me onto the couch.

  “That’s better,” he mumbles.

  My lips twitch, holding back my giggles, and the next thing I know I grab for Noah’s free hand and intertwine my fingers around his.

  I’m too embarrassed to see what Noah’s face looks like, but I go with it. Noah’s body is a hard, muscular heating source, and I nuzzle close as we turn our attentions to the screen, enjoying every second.

  The movie is surprisingly good. I’m pulled in by the suspense, and leap a few times at the sudden bursts of action. With each thrilling moment I find myself getting closer and more molded against Noah’s body.

  Thirty minutes in I cannot tell why my heart might be beating so fast. Is it because of the movie, or Noah? I need to check, as if getting a look at his face would give me the answer.

  I tilt my head upward to get a peek.

  He isn’t looking at me at first, but he catches me staring and turns slowly, his lips twisting as we make eye contact. It’s that maverick look that reminds me of someone, and my stomach does a somersault. I refuse to admit who.

  Made bold by my want to bury any such recognition of … Tro—nope I won’t even think it.