Delicate

by K. L. Cottrell

  How can someone be so beautiful? I wonder absently.

  Well, I’ve been wondering that for forever, and I still haven’t figured it out.

  She resumes working.

  I look around the shop some more, at the confection-stocked case and the couple other customers sitting at tables and the hand-painted name of the place decorating the wall behind the counter….

  But my eyes keep finding their way back to her. For short moments and long moments alike.

  After a minute, she looks at me again, too, while a new customer decides on a flavor of fudge. And once again, she smiles—more softly this time, almost shyly, like she’s trying to communicate to me, ‘Okay, what’s up? Is something on my face?’

  It gives me an idea that’s too good to pass up.

  I put on a semi-serious expression, tap at my forehead, and mouth, “A fly.”

  It works: her eyes widen and she slaps her fingertips across her forehead, then quickly looks around to see if she shooed away the fly that doesn’t exist.

  A loud laugh makes it out of me before I get my hand clamped over my mouth.

  Her customer glances back here to me, then turns to Noelle and asks if she’s all right. She must’ve noticed that wild flail thing.

  “Oh, yes,” Noelle replies. “My friend over there just let me know I had a….”

  Her sentence trails off.

  And now is when she seems to realize she hadn’t felt a fly-like tickle on her forehead or heard a buzz or anything else. All she had to go on was the word of her dear friend Beckett, who is totally serious all the time and never jokes around or teases anyone ever, especially not the person he’s most comfortable with in the world.

  She slides a slow look of incredulity onto me.

  I might die of laughter.

  I really might.

  I am in real pain from laughing so hard.

  Although she shakes her head like she’s exasperated, her own amusement is blooming in her expression.

  She turns back to the customer. “Thank you for checking on me, but I digress! What do we think about the fudge?”

  “No problem, and you know, I think I’m feeling adventurous! Let’s go with the rocky road.”

  “Delectable!”

  I can tell she wants to mention my prank to me, but a couple more patrons have entered the shop and gotten in line, where another has already been waiting for assistance. She doesn’t have any more time for goofing off than she did before.

  In an attempt to stop distracting her, I look across the table to Theo. She’s immersed in the princess movie, her pretzel rod nestled in the corner of her mouth.

  “Having fun?” I ask her.

  Eyes stuck on my phone screen, she gives the barest hint of a nod.

  Since she’s obviously not up for conversing or making a lap around the shop to look at the décor and whatnot, I decide to think more about the cookout I got invited to.

  I think I really will go.

  Hanging out with lots of people I don’t know isn’t something I like to do, but I’m in a great mood. Plus, Blaze seemed really pleased when I didn’t instantly give my usual no to the invitation. Plus again, I’m twenty-seven years old, not a kid—no one is making me go, and no one can make me stay. If I get over there and decide I don’t want to hang around for whatever reason, then I just won’t. I’ll thank Blaze for his hospitality and amicably say I’ll see him on Monday.

  Not counting whatever happened with Jenna, it’s been years since the last time someone treated me like a child who isn’t allowed to do what he wants with his life. It was an indescribable relief to be free of that, and I’m never going—

  “Oh, hey, Ms. Bright!” meets my ears from across the room.

  My attention snaps to the glass case. On the customer side of it is a guy who is probably around our age. Behind it, Noelle looks surprised…and then, after a second, nervous.

  My brain pairs this with pieces of a conversation she and I had several days ago.

  Is this the guy she mentioned on Valentine’s Day? The one who was flirting with her? I remember she said he called her that then too.

  Her eyes flick to me, then to him, then to me again.

  Yep, it’s the same guy. I can tell.

  I miss what she says back to him because someone else’s cell phone rings.

  They quiet the thing in time for me to hear the guy reply, his hands lifting merrily, “It’s my mom’s birthday, so I thought I’d come in and get her some good chocolate. Didn’t expect to see you here on a Saturday, but I’m so glad I did!” He laughs. “Manager hours, huh?”

  Noelle nods a little and taps her thumbnails together. “Um…yeah. Yes. Yes, sir.” I only register that her cheeks were a sweet pink earlier because now they’re going pale. “Happy birthday to your mom. What, uh…?” She quietly clears her throat and, with a gesture at the glass case, finally achieves a professional disposition. “What can we get for her?”

  “It’s so sweet of you to wish her a happy birthday,” he says with a grin I can hear. “Wow. Thank you. I’ll tell her you said that, Noelle. Let’s see, she….”

  My brain stops listening and zeroes in on him saying her actual name.

  It hits me weird as hell, because ‘Noelle’ doesn’t sound right coming from him.

  His unfamiliar voice doesn’t carry it right. He isn’t Cliff or even me—I know he can’t help it, but it’s still a fact that’s like sandpaper against my eardrums.

  I blink and pick back up on their exchange, on how she’s clinging tightly to that professional attitude, her relaxed one gone for the time being. He doesn’t seem to notice she’s more polite than friendly; he’s now talking about how great her yellow sweater looks on her.

  And the prickle of irritation I felt the other night is officially coming back.

  He seems nice enough, but…I don’t know. I didn’t care for the mere thought of him making eyes at her. Watching it happen is even less pleasant.

  You’re not the only one who feels like that about her sweater, anyway, fella, I think at him. It was the first thing I mentioned when I met up with her and Theo before her shift started. It goes with her hair, her eyes, and her skin tone all at once.

  That made her smile, by the way, not look mildly ill.

  “Oh, and hey,” I hear him say on a chuckle, “thank you again for your help on Valentine’s Day. I ate that chocolate when I got home after work, and it was excellent company. My night would’ve been sad and lonely without it.”

  My God, dude. ‘I’m single,’ could only be said more clearly if he spoke the actual words.

  During all his chattering, Noelle has been struggling to navigate the conversation. I can see the attraction there is not mutual, so she wants to be nice without leading him on, but she’s not having an easy time of it.

  And…

  …and my own displeasure aside, I hate it for her.

  It dawns on me that I’m tense and frowning, so I focus on her visible tension, and I loosen up.

  I can only imagine how she feels right now: uncomfortable but not wanting to be rude to a customer. It’s not like he knows what she’s been through, and truly, he isn’t creepy. She’s just lovely and he’s intrigued, and he’s trying to work that into normal conversation. For all he knows, she’s not responding with enthusiasm because she’s shy, or because she’s at work.

  I wait for her to glance over here again so I can calm her with a look, so she can pass some of her discomfort off on me and make room for deciding how to be honest with him. Because she does need to be honest with him. He deserves that, and she deserves to not worry that he’ll keep coming back in here to flirt again.

  I wait.

  And wait.

  And check on Theo.

  And wait.

  They’re at the register now, and she’s ringing him up with a swiftness I recognize as not being the kind born of familiarity with her job. Not only can I read her as a person, but I’ve also seen how she has handled the
steady stream of business today—there’s impatience in her rush now, not simple competence.

  She punches his customer card while he pays, then slides his purchase across the counter.

  “Have a great day,” she tells him. “Come back and see us soon.”

  It’s a kneejerk statement—exactly the same thing she has said to every other customer—but it delights him.

  “I absolutely will, Noelle!” he replies. “This place has awesome chocolate—” he clears his throat, “—and a really charming assistant manager.”

  ‘Charming.’

  I was thinking just earlier about how charming she is, and he’s saying it right to her face.

  That’s not important, Beckett, I scold myself. She needs to—

  She glances at me. He’s putting away his receipt and punch card, appearing to be stalling, like he might have even more to say.

  Well, whatever he’s doing or thinking, I’ve finally got Noelle’s attention.

  I mouth to her, “Breathe, Ellie,” and I motion with my hands as I draw a deep breath.

  She takes her own deep breath, then lets it out when I let mine out.

  And there it is: a glimpse of stability.

  Just in time, too, because the guy is adding, “Hey, I just wanna say my name is Justin, and I think you’re really pretty, and you seem—”

  “I’m sorry,” Noelle cuts in lightly. Her eyes leave me for him, and although she swallows hard at what I’m sure are heavy thoughts, she holds on to that stability. “Thank you for—for the compliments and your attitude, but…” her voice is as kind as her lingering discomfort allows, “…but I’m not…um…available.”

  He pauses to absorb that. While he does, she peeks at me again.

  Not for help, though. Just because. She’s breathing on her own now.

  I send her a small, reassuring smile. Good job. You did it.

  The guy sighs into a short laugh and reclaims her attention. “Well, my slight embarrassment aside, it’s cool. Honestly, I’m not shocked. I wish you the best—but I’m totally not gonna cut this chocolate out of my life. I’ll be back.” He holds up his small box and waves cordially with his other hand. “Have a good one!”

  He starts walking away.

  I see rather than hear her quiet, “Thank you.” She’s tension-free once again.

  I truly am, too, I realize as he passes my table. He glances at me and I don’t have any dissatisfaction for him, just a half-wave of respect for him not being a jerk about getting shut down.

  His returned wave is as courteous as the one he gave Noelle.

  Of course, he doesn’t know who I am in relation to her. He probably thinks I’m some random guy killing time in a fancy candy store with my kid.

  I still appreciate him, though.

  And I’m happy to see Noelle is helping her next customer with her previous mood resurfacing second by second.

  Theodora is still in her own little world, melted chocolate now smeared around that one corner of her mouth. Chuckling, I fetch her a napkin. Can’t have her looking a mess when her grandma shows up.

  By the time she arrives, the flow of business has slowed down enough that Noelle can relax for a few minutes. Ceceli comes out from the kitchen to say hi to all of us, too, but she heads back after Noelle tells the story of my fly prank, which is met with boisterous laughter. And as much as I love Noelle’s parents, I try to hang back while she and her mom chat—but neither of them stands for it. Gail wants to catch up with me a little, and Noelle…well, she just looks happy to have me nearby.

  I oblige them because I cherish the love these people show me. It’s a true gift.

  The chatting doesn’t last long, though, because Theodora is soon back on the food topic (she wants a cheeseburger now, not chicken nuggets). Hugs and words of affection go all around, and Gail and Theo yell goodbye to Ceceli. Then they scurry out of the shop, ready for their grandma-and-granddaughter Saturday adventure.

  Once they’re gone, Noelle gives the place a cursory check of a glance before she fixes her eyes on me. They go sweeter than they already were.

  Her voice follows suit.

  “Thank you so much for watching Theo and….” She glances to where the one guy had stood at the register, then tilts her head that way. “For a minute there, I thought I might freak out.”

  I nod in understanding. “Yeah. I’m glad I could help. You did great—he needed to know you weren’t interested, but you were nice to him.”

  “Yeah, but I…” she winces, “…I feel so bad about it, but I honestly almost shuddered when he was talking about my sweater. He seemed fine as a person, you know, but him saying that did not feel the same as when you said it earlier. Even though it was a pretty innocent compliment, it just….”

  She shakes her head, looking like she still wants to shudder.

  “Aw, man,” I chuckle out, “I know what you mean. I’d be lying if I said any of that was comfortable to watch.” After a beat, I echo what she said about Jenna last weekend. “Well, now he can go find whoever he’s meant to be with.”

  With a smile, she agrees, “That’s right.”

  “Can’t feel too bad about freeing him up for that, huh?”

  “Nope.”

  An older couple has been enjoying their chocolate at a table in the corner, and we notice them getting up to leave. They thank Noelle and she warmly thanks them back, then watches them go. Their exit from the shop leaves just the two of us up here at the front of the house.

  “Well,” I sigh, “as much as I’d like to hang around, I’m sure you have things to catch up on before the next rush comes.”

  “I do.” She checks the clock on the wall. “And I need to call Denver and see if his car trouble is getting better. What are you gonna do now?”

  “Well, actually….”

  I tell her about the cookout at Blaze’s. She smiles and seems as interested in it as I have been, and it makes me feel even better about going.

  It also yanks something to the forefront of my mind: the reason I haven’t felt sociable all this time.

  I take a breath and say, “It’s just—it’s hard for me to think about making new friends.”

  The admission brings swift sadness to her eyes.

  Yeah.

  She reaches out and up, lays a hand on my shoulder, speaks quietly. “I know. I know it’s really hard. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

  For a moment, I just nod, and she copies me.

  “But,” she goes on, “if you think giving it a try sounds good, then do it. You deserve to enjoy things. And I think you know that, since you said you’re probably gonna go. I’m just saying it anyway.” Her fingers flex comfortingly around my shoulder. “It’s okay if you’re still scared, though. There’s nothing wrong with being scared.”

  The words offer the last bit of encouragement I needed.

  I lift a hand and lay it on hers. “Thank you. I…well, I do know I deserve that, but I think I also needed to hear you say it.”

  The smile she gives me is just big enough to touch her eyes. “Anytime.”

  I take my hand away and so does she.

  She adds, “If you go, I hope you have fun. Eat some delicious food for me?”

  “Yep, I will eat a half-charred hot dog with mustard just for you.”

  Even as she groans longingly, she says, “Perfect.”

  I laugh. “Okay, I’ll leave you to your work now and talk to you soon.”

  “Okay. Be careful driving, hear me?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  “Perfect,” she repeats sunnily.

  She starts turning away, so I do too.

  But a sudden thought has me stopping and pivoting back.

  “Hey—Noelle.” I swing out a hand and catch her elbow, only for the softness of her sweater to surprise the hell out of me and cause me to let go.

  Stopping, too, she turns and looks at me again.

  More words are firing up through me, demanding to be voiced lest they
lodge themselves in my throat and suffocate me.

  They put a weird skip in my pulse, but I still say them. “You’re not ‘really pretty.’ You’re unfairly and—and fantastically beautiful.”

  For an eternal second, the air thins and a noisy silence falls.

  I know she wasn’t expecting to hear something like that from me any more than I was expecting to blurt it out.

  The breath she draws rebalances the world, and as it fills her lungs, her eyes soften on me.

  Was it too much? I worry too late. Or flat-out cheesy?

  “That’s….” Her voice has also gone soft. “I…. Thank you, Beck.”

  She holds me in a long look, then blinks and shakes her head, as if to clear away a cobweb of thoughts.

  “So are you,” she finishes.

  This skip of my pulse is more like a tiny electric shock through my system.

  Not only has she never said anything like that to me either, but I would never have guessed she so much as thought it.

  And no, it definitely doesn’t seem cheesy or feel like too much.

  In fact, I’m realizing I can breathe properly again.

  I dip my head in a nod, tip her a smile, and say, “Well, thanks.” Then I start walking backward. “Okay, I’m really going.”

  She returns my smile and gives a little wave. “Okay. Have fun. Be careful.”

  I nod for real. “And eat good food for you. I will.”

  She groans once again about how badly she wants a grilled hot dog, and once again, I laugh. She joins in, and it’s the perfect end to my time at The Chocolate Shop.

  Her nose is even scrunching up, I notice before I turn away.

  - 7 -

  N O E L L E

  now

  “There she is!” my dad says boisterously. He smiles broadly and holds his arms out the open door to me. “How’s my girl?”

  “Hi!” I step into his hug.

  As is tradition, I wheeze out a laugh at the quick squeeze he gives me. He has always been tall and stocky and a giver of good hugs.