Nothing Less

Chapter Ten.

"What is all this? Did Tessa have you stop by the store or something?" I ask her. I pull out a wheel of cheese. Goat cheese to be exact.

"No. I'm going to make cupcakes." Nora opens the fridge and sits a half gallon of milk on the top shelf.

I lift the the next item up to my face. Fig spread.

"With figs? And an onion?" I ask her. My finger points to the onion on the counter.

She nods, closes the fridge and walks over to me. "Yes and yes."

Doesn't sound like a very good cupcake but sure.

As she moves around my kitchen, I grow used to her being here. I'm fascinated by the way she moves, so surely, so comfortable in her own skin. When she lifts her arms to open the cabinet, a pair of dark denim shorts peeks out of the bottom of her oversized black t-shirt. She's wearing black sandals, with two straps covering the span of her feet. The buckle reminds me of a Pilgrim's belt.

She hasn't made a peep in a few minutes now. She turned on the oven in silence, she wiped butter across the bottom of my cupcake pan without saying a word.

I'm going to have to start the conversation, it seems. She's standing in front of the stove, the cupcake pan resting on the burners.

"How was Scarsdale?" I ask.

She turns her cheek so that I can see her face. "It was Scarsdale." Nora responds in a flat tone. "How's Brooklyn?" she asks.

"It's Brooklyn," I say with a smile. Nora turns back around to the stove but her shoulders move up and down ever so slightly as she quietly laughs to herself.

I don't know what to talk about. I want to talk about so many things, but it's hard to walk a tightrope and talk at the same time. I think about the last time we were in this kitchen, her hands squeezing my biceps as she moved her body against mine. The taste of her mouth when she moaned into mine. I reminisce about the curve of her thick hips as she rocked them on my lap.

"Is something wrong?" Nora asks me as another wave of memories hits me. I think back to the first time she touched me. She was so forward, running her finger down my bare stomach. The air in the kitchen has become so thick with awkward silence and tension that I can barely find my breath.

I shake my head, lying.

I sit down at the table and Nora moves around me to grab the carton of eggs from the fridge. The oven beeps, giving notice that it's reached the temperature needed to make Nora's mystery cupcakes.

She sighs and I want to scream because I have so many things to say but no way to say them.

I want to touch her, but I don't have the strength to do it.

"Are you sure? Because you're being weirdly quiet and it seems like something's wrong," Nora's voice is quiet, her shoulders squared.

I don't say anything. I don't know what to say without risking her fleeing. "If I say anything, you'll disappear. Remember?" There's an edge to my voice that I didn't mean to include.

Nora turns around to look at me. She wipes her hands on a towel and walks over to where I sit at the table. "What makes you think that?" She asks.

This woman is insane. "You said it. You told me if I try to fix you, you'll disappear. It's frustrating," I pause to make sure her eyes are on mine. "It's frustrating that I want to be around you, but I feel like I'm walking on eggshells in cleats. I don't know how to talk to you, or what to say. I know that you aren't ready to let me in yet, but you have to at least crack the door because I'm out here reeling, hoping you'll at least consider letting me in."

Nora studies my face. Her eyes move from my mouth, to my eyes, to my mouth again. Her eyes are softer now, her brows slightly frowning.

"Landon," she says, taking the seat next to me. "I didn't mean for it to be like this. I don't want you to hide the way you feel, or be afraid that I'm going to run at a moment's notice."

The wood sticker on the table is peeling off. Another Ikea fail, but this time I'm grateful to have it as a distraction. "Landon, look at me." Nora's fingers are warm when they touch my chin, lifting my face.

"Let's play a game. Okay?" she says, moving her chair toward me. I want her fingers on my skin again. Before I agree, she starts again. "The only rule in this game is that we tell the truth, okay?"

I like the sound of this game, but it sounds too easy. "The whole truth?" I ask her.

"And nothing but the truth," she finishes.

"So help you God?" I say and she gives me that smile that makes me think I love her.

"For as long as you both shall live?" Nora says and we both laugh. "I think those are wedding vows." Her laugh is natural, like her beauty. "Oops," she adds with a humored smile.

Trying to stop my laughter, I continue. "I like the idea of this game. But what's the prize?"

Nora licks her lips and pulls her pouty bottom lip between her teeth. "The truth," she says and I watch her suck on her mouth.

I can't think of anything I would rather be doing than touching her lips. With my lips, with my tongue. Even with my finger. I just want to touch her, I need to.

I need to touch her like I need to breathe.

"Who's truth? Mine or yours?" I ask her, knowing that they aren't the same.

"Both," she says with certainty.

I stare at her with steady eyes. "And when do we begin?"

The braid on her shoulder is falling out of its braid, tiny hairs stick out of the bundle of hair. She runs her fingers over it as if she can hear my thoughts. "Now. I go first," Nora says.

I nod in agreement. That's fine with me.

She takes a deep breath and tugs on her hair tie. Her fingers pull through her dark hair, unknotting the waves.

"When we were at the subway station in Scarsdale you said that you missed me. Was that true or not true?"

I don't hesitate. "Yes. True."

She smiles. I watch her fingers weave her thick hair back into a braid.

"My turn," I say and continue to pick at the chipped edge of the table. "Did you miss me? Truth or not truth?"

She nods. This feels an awful lot like Katniss and Peeta's real-or-not-real game.

I stare at Nora, waiting for her to actually say the words. She doesn't.

"Words aren't real until you say them," I tell her.

She stares back at me appreciatively. "Not true," her lips mouth the words and my chest aches. She holds her hand up, "I meant that what you just said isn't true. Words are real when we write them down. Taking the time to make them permanent makes them real," she clarifies.

I shake my head to disagree. "Words can be erased if you write them down. But if you say them, they always exist."

Nora leans away, resting her back on the chair. "The words only exist until you don't mean them anymore."

I study her and I'm cautious with my response.

"I promise not to say things that I don't mean," I tell her. My hand reaches for hers, but she pulls away.

She hesitates. "And I promise not to say things I'll want to erase."

(Author's note: I'll update again tomorrow! So yesterday as I was reading the comments from the chapter, I edited something and it erased them all :((((( I always read every comment, so if you commented, re-comment so I can read it haha. Happy Wednesday!)