It was the way he smiled even when I got the sense that he didn’t want to, and in the way he gently but politely shook his head no to a woman who clearly propositioned him at the bar.
Tonight wasn’t a date. I know that.
But I was able to pretend, and for a girl who hasn’t been on a decent date in a really long time, that’s enough.
Sort of.
Still, I want so badly to reach across the truck and hold his hand. Actually, more accurately, I want him to reach across and take my hand.
He doesn’t, and I try not to be too disappointed when we get back to the house, signaling that the night’s come to an end.
On one hand, I love that we simply enjoyed each other’s company for once. Not fighting, not circling each other like wary animals in heat. It was both comforting and alarming to realize how much I enjoy his company.
And yet he hasn’t touched me. Not once the entire night, and I expect that’s deliberate. I haven’t touched him either, because if I’ve learned anything from my time spent with this guy, it’s that once I start to touch him, I have a hell of a time stopping.
“You okay?” he asks as he turns off the ignition. I realize I haven’t moved, even though we’ve been parked for several moments.
“Yeah,” I say, forcing a smile.
“You seem a little lost in thought.”
“Well, I am a girl,” I say.
He laughs. “That you are.”
“I like your laugh,” I blurt out.
His laugh breaks off abruptly. Whoops.
“I mean, I’m not like naming our babies or anything,” I correct. “I’m just saying you have a nice laugh. I don’t hear it all that often.”
Noah says nothing as he watches me with those unreadable dark brown eyes. Then he looks away, the hard, defined planes of his face glinting like granite in the dim light coming from the outside porch light.
I resist the urge to sigh as I get out of the car.
He’s climbing out of his side as I come around the front of the truck.
“Thanks again for including me in your boys’ night,” I say, feeling a little awkward, as though it’s the last part of a date that’s not a date. “It was nice not to feel…lonely.”
Something flits across his face, and his hand twitches at his side, then goes still. Then slowly he moves his hand again, lifting it to me, palm up.
I blink down at it, and then hoping like hell I’m not reading this moment wrong, I lift my hand, place my palm against his.
His fingers close over mine, thumb rubbing briefly over the top of my knuckles before he tugs me forward. Only it’s not toward him, nor is it in the direction of the house.
Noah walks me to the back of the truck, releasing my hand to unlatch the tailgate before going back to the cab. Rummaging around, he comes up with a plaid blanket.
I watch wordlessly as he climbs into the truck bed and spreads out the blanket before jumping back to the ground.
Slowly he reaches out, slides his fingers beneath my wig, and eases it off before tossing it into the back of the truck. Then his fingers go around to the nape of my neck, where my hair’s pulled back in a small tight knot. He tugs the band slowly until my hair spills over my shoulders.
“Much better,” he whispers before shoving the band into his pocket and hooking his hands beneath my armpits. Noah lifts me easily onto the truck bed.
Instinctively I tug at the bottom of my skirt, which has ridden up. I am a lady, after all.
He gives me a gentle smirk. “I’ve seen it all, princess.”
Right. There’s that.
Still, I narrow my eyes. “Just because you’ve seen it once—”
“Twice.”
“Twice,” I amend. “Anyway, that doesn’t mean that you’re going to see it again.”
“You sure about that?” He hoists himself back onto the truck bed, using his chin to indicate that I should scoot back.
“This is your grand seduction plan to get round number three?” I ask skeptically as I make room for him. “The back of a truck?”
He moves up beside me before rolling onto his back, both hands behind his head. “When I was a kid, my mom dated this guy—well, she dated lots of guys, but there was this one guy, Ron. He was one of the better ones. He had a truck just like this one, and sometimes he’d take me and Mom out of the trailer park. I can’t remember where specifically, just away, and we’d go somewhere and he’d bring blankets and wine for them, a soda for me, and we’d watch the stars.”
I stare down at him in shock. Not only is it by far the most words I’ve heard him ever string together, but they’re also the most telling. The most revealing.
I can tell by the way he doesn’t look at me that he’s feeling vulnerable, and I slowly lie down beside him on my back, looking up at the night sky.
“There are so many,” I say in surprise. “Stars, I mean.”
Then I wince because it’s an obvious, childlike thing to say, but it’s the first thing that came to mind. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen stars. I mean really seen them. Not since camping trips with my family when I was a kid, and back then I wasn’t feeling at all like I’m feeling now, which is…
I don’t know.
I don’t know how I’m feeling, but it’s both wonderful and completely terrifying.
“What happened to this Ron?” I ask quietly.
I feel him shrug. “Moved on, I guess. He was only around for a summer.”
Tonight wasn’t a date. I know that.
But I was able to pretend, and for a girl who hasn’t been on a decent date in a really long time, that’s enough.
Sort of.
Still, I want so badly to reach across the truck and hold his hand. Actually, more accurately, I want him to reach across and take my hand.
He doesn’t, and I try not to be too disappointed when we get back to the house, signaling that the night’s come to an end.
On one hand, I love that we simply enjoyed each other’s company for once. Not fighting, not circling each other like wary animals in heat. It was both comforting and alarming to realize how much I enjoy his company.
And yet he hasn’t touched me. Not once the entire night, and I expect that’s deliberate. I haven’t touched him either, because if I’ve learned anything from my time spent with this guy, it’s that once I start to touch him, I have a hell of a time stopping.
“You okay?” he asks as he turns off the ignition. I realize I haven’t moved, even though we’ve been parked for several moments.
“Yeah,” I say, forcing a smile.
“You seem a little lost in thought.”
“Well, I am a girl,” I say.
He laughs. “That you are.”
“I like your laugh,” I blurt out.
His laugh breaks off abruptly. Whoops.
“I mean, I’m not like naming our babies or anything,” I correct. “I’m just saying you have a nice laugh. I don’t hear it all that often.”
Noah says nothing as he watches me with those unreadable dark brown eyes. Then he looks away, the hard, defined planes of his face glinting like granite in the dim light coming from the outside porch light.
I resist the urge to sigh as I get out of the car.
He’s climbing out of his side as I come around the front of the truck.
“Thanks again for including me in your boys’ night,” I say, feeling a little awkward, as though it’s the last part of a date that’s not a date. “It was nice not to feel…lonely.”
Something flits across his face, and his hand twitches at his side, then goes still. Then slowly he moves his hand again, lifting it to me, palm up.
I blink down at it, and then hoping like hell I’m not reading this moment wrong, I lift my hand, place my palm against his.
His fingers close over mine, thumb rubbing briefly over the top of my knuckles before he tugs me forward. Only it’s not toward him, nor is it in the direction of the house.
Noah walks me to the back of the truck, releasing my hand to unlatch the tailgate before going back to the cab. Rummaging around, he comes up with a plaid blanket.
I watch wordlessly as he climbs into the truck bed and spreads out the blanket before jumping back to the ground.
Slowly he reaches out, slides his fingers beneath my wig, and eases it off before tossing it into the back of the truck. Then his fingers go around to the nape of my neck, where my hair’s pulled back in a small tight knot. He tugs the band slowly until my hair spills over my shoulders.
“Much better,” he whispers before shoving the band into his pocket and hooking his hands beneath my armpits. Noah lifts me easily onto the truck bed.
Instinctively I tug at the bottom of my skirt, which has ridden up. I am a lady, after all.
He gives me a gentle smirk. “I’ve seen it all, princess.”
Right. There’s that.
Still, I narrow my eyes. “Just because you’ve seen it once—”
“Twice.”
“Twice,” I amend. “Anyway, that doesn’t mean that you’re going to see it again.”
“You sure about that?” He hoists himself back onto the truck bed, using his chin to indicate that I should scoot back.
“This is your grand seduction plan to get round number three?” I ask skeptically as I make room for him. “The back of a truck?”
He moves up beside me before rolling onto his back, both hands behind his head. “When I was a kid, my mom dated this guy—well, she dated lots of guys, but there was this one guy, Ron. He was one of the better ones. He had a truck just like this one, and sometimes he’d take me and Mom out of the trailer park. I can’t remember where specifically, just away, and we’d go somewhere and he’d bring blankets and wine for them, a soda for me, and we’d watch the stars.”
I stare down at him in shock. Not only is it by far the most words I’ve heard him ever string together, but they’re also the most telling. The most revealing.
I can tell by the way he doesn’t look at me that he’s feeling vulnerable, and I slowly lie down beside him on my back, looking up at the night sky.
“There are so many,” I say in surprise. “Stars, I mean.”
Then I wince because it’s an obvious, childlike thing to say, but it’s the first thing that came to mind. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen stars. I mean really seen them. Not since camping trips with my family when I was a kid, and back then I wasn’t feeling at all like I’m feeling now, which is…
I don’t know.
I don’t know how I’m feeling, but it’s both wonderful and completely terrifying.
“What happened to this Ron?” I ask quietly.
I feel him shrug. “Moved on, I guess. He was only around for a summer.”
