Now that that's out of the way, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Malloka555 for her UH-MAY-ZING cover in the external link!
Chapter 28
I woke up to a loud shriek. And not just any shriek, but a blood curdling screech. And then a slamming door. I jerked awake, practically falling out of bed; Noah just yanked the blanket and snuggled further into his pillow. My eye widened slightly as I realized what had happened last night. No, not that, you pervert. Deciding that I’ll reflect upon it later, I jumped out of bed and ran to the door, pushing it open to see Marissa diving into the bathroom. As I stepped towards the bathroom, I heard running water and unhappy mutters. Marissa was dousing her eyes with cold water.
“What are you doing?” I asked her with furrowed eyebrows. My hair was probably a mess and my voice sounded like I was speaking for the first time in nine years.
“Ridding my eyes of your sins!” she whipped around to look at me with a crazy look in her red, wet eyes.
“My sins?” I asked as I stared at her.
“You were in my brother’s bed!” she hissed. “Kissing is one thing but that…that is another!”
I stared at her for a moment before I realized what she was saying. Quickly shaking my head, I took a step forward and she jumped back, eyeing my hands as if they were lethal weapons. “Don’t touch me! I don’t know what—,” she began but I swiftly cut her off.
“No! Nothing happened! Nothing at all! We just…talked, okay? We only talked. Words, exchanging words- that’s all that took place, I swear,” I told her in an assuring tone.
“You mean you guys didn’t—?” she queried but I shook my head.
“No! No! Nothing of the sort! He, uh, he told me about his mom,” I admitted.
“He…he told you?” she asked, her eyebrows rising.
“Yes,” I nodded.
“O-okay, well, I’m going to go out and get some breakfast. You wake Noah up,” she told me as she left the bathroom, picking up her purse, which was strewn across the floor, and slinging it over her shoulder.
I entered the bathroom and closed the door. After using the toilet, I washed my hands and my face. And because my toothbrush isn’t here, I had to rinse my mouth with water, and then mouthwash, which isn’t as clean as I wish it could’ve been.
I walked back to Noah’s room, watching him sleep. It’s not as creepy as it sounds, I swear. Okay, maybe it is but it’s worth it. I mean, he’s cute when he sleeps. Though, I’m not, as cliché as that may seem. The guy always seems like an angel but the girl is the opposite. I think I snore. I mean, Noah told me that I do, but I don't know whether or not I should believe him.
His long eyelashes cast shadows across his cheeks, and his hair was a complete mess, but it suited him. His lips were set in a frown as he rested his face on the pillow. He was rolled up like a burrito in the blankets. He hogs the covers, in case you’re wondering. I realized that just last night because he nearly shoved me off the bed in order to snatch the blankets from me.
Deciding not to be a creep any longer, I walked over to his desk and sat down. I began taking my hair out of its loose ponytail and fixing it, tying it up tightly so it was out of my face. With a sigh, I reached out and grabbed Noah’s guitar, lifting it up and putting it in my lap. I struggled to hold it correctly; I held it awkwardly in my arms. Why is his guitar so hard to play?
“It’s a lefty guitar,” Noah muttered from his bed. His morning voice was deep and raspy and…nice. I glanced up at him and pursed my lips. His eyes were half lidded as he struggled to escape his fortress of blankets. Once he managed to splay them across the bed, he stretched and as if his body couldn’t get any bigger, his arms flew above his head and his legs stretched out. He began cracking his joints and his knuckles, earning silence from me.
“Oh,” I frowned as I placed the guitar down.
“It’s easy to play; you were just holding it wrong,” he told me as he sat up, fixing his shirt. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. “I have a killer headache, and I’m really hungry.”
“Marissa just left to get breakfast,” I told him.
He nodded, rubbing his hand over his face. “Good, because I really want food.”
Slowly, he exited the room and I stood there. What do I do? Do I follow him? What if he’s going to the bathroom? That’d be really weird. And I can’t just casually stroll into their kitchen like I own the place. A few seconds later, he peeked his head into his room with a slight furrow in his eyebrows. “Are you coming?”
With a smile, I followed him down the hallway towards the living room. After I sat down, he looked at me and motioned upstairs. “I’ll be right back.”
I shrugged and grabbed the remote, turning on the television. This is awkward. Are we going to talk about it? Or is there nothing to talk about, like Noah would say? A few moments later, Noah entered the living room and dropped down onto the couch a few cushions away from me. As if sensing the tension, he chuckled. “Don’t worry; it’s usually awkward like this. You’re doing better than Floyd did.”
“Really?” I asked him with a smile.
“Yeah, he broke down crying. He kept telling me that he was sorry and that he couldn’t imagine losing his mom. I was the one comforting him,” Noah snorted.
I laughed, shaking my head. That sounds like Floyd. “I would say that I’m sorry for your loss, but I know that hearing that a hundred times doesn’t help at all, and it doesn’t mean much.”
“It would mean something coming from you,” he told me as he stared at the television. “I mean, I know you lost your dad. So you can relate. And your ‘I’m sorry’ is more sincere, if you get what I’m saying.”
I looked at him and nodded before glancing back at the TV. It strikes me as odd at how normal he’s acting, and by normal, I mean how Noah-ish he’s acting. I wonder if he does that a lot- break down. I used to do it at least twice a week in the beginning, but I got better at preventing them. But when I would have break downs, I wouldn’t recover as well as Noah is. It’s sad that he’s perfected the skill of acting normal after crying himself to sleep.
I turned to look at him, examining him. A few seconds after I began gazing at him, he turned to look at me, tossing a confused look my way. “Uh, we’re supposed to be watching TV, and last time I checked, I’m not a TV.”
“Can I not glance at you?” I asked him innocently.
“You weren’t glancing; you were staring, which is creepy,” he told me.
“Do I snore?” I blurted loudly, managing to change the subject.
“We’ve had this discussion before,” he told me.
“I know, but I don’t know if you were being honest. You could’ve been lying just to annoy me,” I told him.
“No, you snore; it’s very loud, to be honest,” he responded with an amused look on his face. My face crinkled into one of annoyance.
“Yeah, well, you…you hog the blankets!” I retorted.
With a slow nod and a mocking smile, he chuckled. “I know, because my heart is like ice and I can freeze to death without them.”
“You’re not coldhearted,” I replied.
“Yeah? And how did you come to that conclusion?” he asked me.
“Would a coldhearted person bake a girl cookies?” I reminded him, batting my eyelashes with a large grin on my face.
“Shut up,” he scowled.
“See?” I laughed.
“I’m never baking for you ever again,” he informed me as he threw a pillow at me.
“What? No!” I exclaimed as he got up from the couch.
“Have fun with Marissa’s stale brownies for the rest of your life,” he told me over his shoulder as he walked up the stairs.
As if on cue, the door opened and Marissa walked in with a large brown bag. “I make amazing brownies! Don’t listen to him, Kenna!” I simply rolled my eyes as I turned my attention back to the television. “Where are you going?” Marissa asked Noah.
“To shower,” he responded as he took the steps two at a time.
“I guess it’s just you and me then,” she shrugged as she plopped down beside me on the couch. Pulling out a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich, she placed it on my lap. She took out another one for herself and began unwrapping it. I followed in her footsteps, opening the sandwich and starting on it.
About twenty minutes later, Noah came downstairs with soaking wet hair. When Marissa made a comment about it, he shook his head like a dog, which earned a groan from me. He tossed something at me and I surprisingly caught it, realizing that it was my cell phone. “It was ringing nonstop while I was in the shower.”
I looked to see fourteen missed calls from my mother. My eyes widened as I quickly placed my food on the table, wiping my hands on my jeans. I dialed my mother’s number. She answered immediately and I cringed at the sound of her voice. “Kennedy West, where are you? I’ve been calling you all morning and you haven’t answered any of my text messages or my phone calls—.”
“I’m at Marissa’s house,” I told her, thinking of an immediate lie. “I left early this morning to go out for breakfast with her and Noah.”
“And you didn’t think to leave a note? Or even tell me? Jesus, Kenna, I thought you got kidnapped or something,” she sighed in relief.
“No, I doubt anyone would want to kidnap me,” I chuckled, trying to ease the tension with a joke.
“You’re grounded,” she explained and my eyes enlarged.
“What?” I asked in a quieter voice. “Why?”
“You can’t just run off without telling me, Kenna,” my mother responded.
“For how long?” I asked her.
“A week,” she replied. I can do that. I can stay inside for a week. At least I’ll have my phone. “And I’m taking your phone.”
“What? Why? I don’t think that’s fair,” I told her.
“Well, it’s not fair to give me a heart attack on a beautiful Saturday morning, now is it?” she retorted.
With a sigh, I gave in. “Okay.”
“And I want you home by two,” she told me.
“Okay,” I replied in a defeated tone.
“Love you,” she cooed.
“Love you too,” I muttered as I hung up, dropping my phone in my lap.
I noticed Marissa’s eyes on me. Noah, trying to be sly, was glancing at me every few seconds. “What happened?” Marissa inquired.
“I’m grounded,” I told her dully.
“What? That just happened?” she asked me, glancing from my phone to me.
“Yeah,” I muttered unhappily.
“That was the most civil argument I’ve ever witnessed,” Noah stated.
“Yeah, well, it’s better not to argue with my mom. I learned that the hard way.” I shook my head.
“Well, how long are you grounded for?” Marissa asked as she finished off her sandwich.
“A week,” I informed her with a shrug.
“That’s not that bad,” she responded.
“Yeah, I guess not,” I told her. “But I have to leave at one thirty.”
“What happened to not lying?” Noah asked with a smirk. I took a few seconds to admire his dimples and his beautiful set of teeth.
“Well, if I would’ve told my mom that I came here at eleven at night to check up on you, she’d be convinced that I was pregnant,” I told him bluntly. He stared at me for a moment before looking away awkwardly.
Why did I say that? I’m such an idiot. Dear lord, he’s probably planning to avoid me. Why am I such an idiot? Who says that so openly? ‘Yeah, my mom knows about my crush on you; she thinks so low of me that she would assume I left on a booty call.’
Someone stab me.
<<>><<>>
At one twenty, Marissa stood up and stretched, telling me that she’d see me at school on Monday. She was going to “go take a shower” or something, but knowing her, she’s probably going to sit at the top of the stairs and listen in on our conversation. She’ll probably record it and send it to Dana and Floyd. Well, maybe not Floyd because he’s been avoiding me at all costs. As Marissa walked off, she winked at me and I wanted to sigh.
“She’s so indiscreet,” Noah muttered under his breath. I felt my cheeks tinge red as I let out a heavy sigh. Thanks Marissa.
I nodded uncomfortably as I stood up, brushing off my hands. “Get up,” I demanded.
He looked at me with confusion on his face. He was sitting cross-legged with the remote in his hand, along with his cell phone. “What?” he asked, glancing up at me.
“I didn’t tickle you for nothing,” I told him. Realizing the meaning behind my words, he sighed, pushing himself up from the couch. He rocked back and forth on his feet as he tucked his hands in his pockets.
Do I crave his affection so much that I’m forcing him to hug me? Yes.
What’s wrong with me? So much.
Oh no, it’s going to be awkward. It’s only awkward if you make it awkward.
I opened my arms and he stood there with a bored look on his face. I motioned for him to come closer to me. He let out another tired sigh before taking a step closer. Curling my arms under his own so I wasn’t stopping him from hugging me back, I enclosed my arms around him. As expected, I didn’t get a response.
“Noah, this isn’t considered a hug,” I told him into his chest, trying not to sniff him too obviously. How embarrassing would that be?
“You were too busy stabbing my ribs with your fingers to explain your definition of a hug,” he responded and his chest vibrated with his words. I wanted to snuggle closer to him. I wanted him to wrap his arms around me tightly. But that isn’t the way Noah is. He’ll get there eventually. I’ll make him.
“I’ll just hold onto you until you hug me back, Noah,” I replied, not quite liking the feeling of rejection.
“You have to be home by two,” he rejoined.
“I’m already grounded for a week. I’ll just blame it on traffic,” I simply stated.
A few seconds later, he groaned quietly and lightly wrapped his arms around me. I held back a squeal and managed to keep myself composed when I pulled away from him. “That was a crappy hug, okay?” I told him.
“Sorry, I didn’t take hugging lessons,” he retorted as he lightly kicked at the carpet. I wanted to coo at how cute he looked, but I know he’d probably refuse to look at me ever again, just like he refused to bake for me.
“You hug like a limp noodle!” I retorted.
“You hug like one of those monkeys with Velcro hands,” he informed me.
“Okay, noodle arms. Learn how to hug correctly before Monday,” I called over my shoulder as I exited the house, closing the door behind me.
<<>><<>>
The following Monday, I put on the perfume my mother bought me for Christmas. I made sure not to use an overwhelming amount but I used enough that my mother noticed it when I came inside from my morning walk with Dakota. “You smell good,” she told me.
“Thanks,” I replied as I unhooked the leash from Dakota’s collar. I sat down and began preparing a bowl of cereal.
“Why the perfume?” she asked me suspiciously.
“I’m going to hug Noah today,” I told her with a smile.
“You’re going to hug Noah?” she asked me, watching me curiously as I allowed milk to engulf my Cheerios.
“Yes,” I told her with a large nod.
“Okay, good luck with that,” she rolled her eyes as she looked away. That was the end of our conversation. I would’ve asked her if I could have my phone back for safety reasons but I know that she wouldn’t give me it, so I stuck to eating my cereal. I can live without my phone for a week.
When I reached school, I let out a nervous sigh. Hopefully Noah doesn’t embarrass me in front of everyone by not hugging me back. That’d be the worst thing ever. As I walked to gym class, I let out a sigh when I saw that Noah wasn’t there. I should’ve known because Marissa wasn’t at her locker applying makeup, or talking to Dana or Chloe, or even her boyfriend, Eric, on the phone. I guess the two are running late.
As I entered the gym, I began riffling through my bag for nothing in particular, trying to draw attention from myself. “Where’s your boyfriend?” I wanted to groan in frustration as the familiar voice greeted my ears.
I refused to turn around as I continued perusing through my bag, not quite sure what I was looking for. I’d have to take something out, or make a sound of confirmation, just to make it look like I’m not having a party in my backpack. “Are you just going to ignore me?”
Obviously. I already beat this kid up once. Do I need to do it again? As I zipped up my book bag, I flung it over my shoulder. I began walking towards the bleachers, struggling to keep my insults from sliding off my tongue. “What? Are you guys in a fight?”
He just doesn’t quit.
“Did he reject you? Was the loner rejected?” he continued to taunt me. I heard his footsteps behind me as I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself down. “Did he realize that you’re just a daddy-less reject with nothing going for her?”
I stopped walking, glancing down at the football in front of me. Before I came in, Ronnie was tossing the football back and forth with another one of his idiot friends. I reached down and lifted it up, turning around slowly. I held the football in my hands as I glared at Ronnie. “What? Do you not like me talking about your dead daddy?”
I continued to bite my lip, thinking about the consequences of my actions.
Guilt? Nah.
Going to the principal’s office? Yes.
Getting suspended? Probably.
Disappointing my already disappointed mother? Yes.
Would my father want me to do this? No.
If he was here, he would laugh it off and shake his head. But he’s not here. And he can’t laugh it off. And Ronnie seems to find that fact hilarious.
As I was about to drop the football, Ronnie scoffed. “What happened? Did your little boyfriend break up with you? He’s too depressed for a relationship? Are his meds not working? That’s if he didn’t stop taking them already.”
I felt my breath hitch and my fists clench around the football. I could tell that my eyes were glinted with a layer of crazy because Ronnie grinned when he saw it. My breathing was heavy as I imagined all the ways I could hurt him. “Listen, Ronnie…you see this football?” I patted the football for emphasis, “I will shove this thing so far up your—.”
“Kennedy!” a familiar voice called and I saw Noah enter the gym, his bag slung over his shoulder.
I looked at Ronnie and forcefully shoved the football at him. His hands reached up to clutch it as I released it, turning and walking in Noah’s direction. “Really, Kennedy? A fight? Is that the smartest thing to do while you’re grounded? And aren’t you already on thin ice with the principal?”
“Haven’t you told me that I’m not a smart person?” I joked through gritted teeth.
“You’re smart; you just don’t think things through,” he told me as he walked up the bleacher steps. I followed behind him, clenching and unclenching my fists.
“Is that your idea of a compliment?” I asked him.
With a shrug, he sat down and I dropped down beside him, burying my hands in my lap to keep from punching something. I’m definitely not participating today. By the looks of it, we’re playing baseball- or they are- and I don’t trust myself. I’d probably chuck the bat at Ronnie in hopes he’d collapse. Of course we use plastic bats for the “safety of students”; I think it’s because plastic bats are cheaper than real bats. The plastic would probably stun him, though.
“I’m actually very good at giving compliments,” Noah elucidated.
“Yes, because you give them out so often,” I snorted as I glared at the back of Ronnie’s head.
“I do,” he shrugged.
I looked at him and rolled my eyes. “Really?” I called his bluff.
“You don’t give compliments out either,” he scoffed.
“I can. I’m a nice person,” I told him as thoughts of punching Ronnie jogged through my head. “You have a nice smile.”
He gave me an uncomfortable look before nodding. “Thanks, I guess.”
“Now you have to return the compliment,” I told him.
“You smell good, like coconuts,” he responded.
With a laugh, I tried to refrain from blushing. “You’ve told me that before.”
“I thought I rarely give out compliments,” he murmured.
“Come on, say a different one,” I encouraged him. I guess, in a way, it’s easy to make him say things because he’s just as socially awkward as I am, if not worse. And, in another way, he’s easy to relate to. He just has a lot of baggage, but at least I know about it.
“Should I get you a fishing pole? Because you seem to be fishing for compliments,” he told me with a smirk on his lips. The sight of it made me smile and I nudged him in the side. Rolling my eyes at his overall cheesiness, I let out a laugh. “You have a weird laugh.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” I asked him with furrowed eyebrows.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Is it?”
“Well, you’re the one that said it! I don’t know. You tell me, Noah—,” I began but he cut me off.
“It’s a compliment,” he said flatly.
I looked at him and grinned. “Well, thank you.”
“Yeah, don’t get used to it,” he muttered under his breath. I sat there with my legs crossed as I continued to glare at the back of Ronnie’s head. “What did he say?”
“What?” I asked, turning to look at him.
“That got you so angry- what did he say?” he inquired. “Was it about your dad?”
“Not this time, no,” I told him.
“Oh,” he replied dully. I could tell that he wanted to know. I wonder if he knew of my burning curiosity about his past.
“It was about you,” I admitted.
“Me?” he asked a few seconds later.
I nodded as I stared at the bleacher bench in front of me. “Yes, you.”
“Oh,” he replied again. For someone so secretive, he’s bad at hiding his curiosity.
“I defended you, don’t worry. His facts were incorrect,” I told him.
“What’d he say?” Noah asked. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem angry. He seemed calm, amused almost.
“Well, he kept asking me if you and I broke up, probably because the moment I stepped in here, I was annoyed; but it was because of his general presence,” and the lack of yours, “so I ignored him. And then he started talking about my dad, and what he was saying was true- my father is dead, and I do miss him. I was getting angry, but I continued to ignore him. And then he started to talk about you and he didn’t even know what he was talking about, so I defended you. And he was happy to see me angry, for some weird, probably perverted reason. I was about to threaten to clog up his digestive system with a football when you called my name,” I explained.
“Don’t be alarmed when I say this,” he started off slowly, “But I think he likes you.”
I laughed quietly, and soon enough my laughter filled the entire gymnasium as I chortled into my hands. “Because you obviously taunt someone when you like them, Noah.”
“Some guys do. I mean, it’s usually common in third graders, but Ronnie has the mentality of one. And it’s the only way to get your attention,” Noah shrugged. “And that ‘perverted glint’ in his eyes is probably him getting happy, not in a weird way, that he finally got a reaction out of you.”
“What? Is starting a conversation too mainstream?” I asked as I shook my head.
“How would you respond if he tried to start a conversation?” Noah asked and I shrugged, knowing that he was right about my reaction.
“What you’re saying is highly improbable. Ronnie liking me? I mean, Floyd liking me was completely farfetched. But two guys liking me? Yeah, no, I doubt it,” I told him with a shake of my head.
“Floyd told you?” he queried.
“Yes,” I replied with a nod.
“What else did he tell you?” Noah asked me curiously.
“Nothing really, he just told me that he hasn’t been replying to my messages because he’s trying to get over me,” I shrugged. I should take his advice but I’m too selfish to stop talking to Noah. “Why? Is there something worth knowing, Noah?”
He leaned back, resting his elbows on the bench behind us as he relaxed his long legs on the bench below us. “Nope.”
We were silent as we stared at the students playing a game of baseball. “I’m sorry, by the way,” I blurted.
“What?” he asked, pulling his attention away from the players towards me.
I stared at my tangled fingers, thinking about whether or not I should wait until we’re in private to talk about this. “About embarrassing you, I didn’t really want to. I didn’t want to tell you at all, to be honest. I mean, I did, but I didn’t know how you’d react. I thought you wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore. But Floyd gave me the opportunity and I stupidly saw it as now or never.”
“What?” Noah repeated, seeming completely lost.
“When I, uh, when I told you about my feelings,” I admitted quietly.
“Oh, it’s whatever,” he shrugged simply. “I wasn’t embarrassed by the way, just…shocked.”
“You mean you didn’t know already?” I asked him with furrowed eyebrows.
“Did you somehow slip a confession into a text message or something?” he asked me, quirking an eyebrow.
“No, but I just assumed you knew,” I muttered.
“And how would I know?” he inquired.
“I mean, you’re smart. I figured you’d be able to read into things,” I told him with a red face.
“Smart doesn’t mean socially excelling. You of all people should know that,” he scoffed.
“Yeah, but I mean, when a girl goes out of her way to spend time with you she probably likes you,” I told him.
“Oh…how was I supposed to know that?” he asked me in confusion. “What does a guy do when he likes you?”
“How am I supposed to know that? Floyd didn’t exactly drop any hints,” I told Noah. “He just talked to me, and did and said a lot of nice things for me. Now that I think about it, he flirted with me, but I just assumed that was his personality.”
“He flirted with you? And what’s considered flirting?” he asked me, sounding genuinely curious.
“Well, he called me beautiful a few times, and he went out of his way to make me smile and laugh,” I shrugged. “I don’t know. When someone’s flirting with you, you kind of know. But with some people, you don’t exactly know.”
“And what if you don’t know?” he inquired.
“Then you ask them,” I joked.
<<>><<>><<>>
Marissa told me that she couldn’t meet me for lunch; she had to meet a teacher to talk about her grade. She has a C+ in the class and she’s at risk for failing. I was left with nowhere to sit, so I walked over to Noah’s table and took a seat. Of course he had to make a sarcastic comment. He wouldn’t be Noah if he didn’t. “Sure, Kennedy, you can sit here.”
“Thanks, Noah,” I retorted as I bit into my quesadilla. I felt a sense of relief. There isn’t any tension in the air, or at least I think there isn’t, and things seem okay with Noah. I’ve come to accept the fact that he doesn’t like me. I figured that I can either get mad and try and force him to like me, or I can slowly try and get over him. It’s a hard thing to do, like Floyd said. It’s even worse when you’re friends with the person because if you cut them off without an explanation, there is no longer a friendship. Now, I see why Floyd has been ignoring my texts. I’ll be sure to accept him with open arms when he does get over me. I’m still shocked about the fact that a guy like Floyd could like a girl like me.
“So how was your day?” I asked him as I continued to chew my food.
“Like every other day,” he said to me with a simple shrug. “As I’ve been learning recently, it’s only polite to ask how your day went as well, so how was it?”
“My day was okay, I guess. It could’ve been better; it could’ve been worse,” I told him.
“I, uh, I have something to tell you,” he informed me with a nervous look on his face. Like many of the dreams I’ve had, a knot formed in my stomach. Is this the dream where he tells me that he likes me? Or does he confess his undying love for me in this one? Or is this the one where he asks me to marry him by singing Fall Out Boy?
“What?” I asked as I slowly chewed my apple.
“I’m not good at things like this,” he admitted as he began riffling through his bag in search of something. “But I want to apologize.”
I scoffed, furrowing my eyebrows. All hopes of being Noah River’s girlfriend, or better yet his wife, died in my stomach and I tried not to show my sadness. “For what?”
“For treating you like dirt last week,” he told me as he pulled out a Tupperware bowl.
“Oh, that,” I nodded as I looked at the bowl, confused.
“So, because I guessed that this is the kind of thing that friends do for each other, I feel the need to apologize. And I figured, what does Kennedy like better than annoying the life out of me? Chocolate, and a lot of chocolate, though I don’t know why because the stuff is disgusting, but here,” he told me as he slid the Tupperware bowl across the table.
I cautiously grabbed it, taking off the lid. I stared at the contents of the bowl and a small grin found its way on my face. “What happened to never baking for me again?”
“Do you not want the cookies?” he asked as he threatened to take the triple chocolate chip cookies away. I quickly grabbed the bowl and shook my head.
“I want them,” I told him.
“So does this mean we’re good?” he asked as I ditched the apple and stuffed a cookie in my mouth.
“Would you do more for me if I said that we weren’t?” I asked him curiously.
Giving me a flat look, he repeated himself: “So does this mean we’re good?”
“Sure,” I shrugged. “We’re good.” Though I would like to know how far he’d go to make things right with me.
“That’s attractive,” he muttered as I continued to stuff cookies into my mouth.
“Sorry, it’s just that you’re like Betty Crocker,” I told him.
“See? This is why I don’t bake for you,” he retorted as he raised and dropped his hands.
“No,” I replied with a smile. “Do you prefer Little Debbie?”
He gave me an annoyed look but I saw the corners of his mouth quirk up. “I know you want to smile, Noah. Face it, I’m hilarious.”
“Annoying is what you are,” he told me.
“What’s the difference?” I asked him.
“Trust me, there’s a big difference,” he explained.
“You would know, huh?” I snorted.
“I would. Sometimes you’re funny, other times you’re annoying,” he informed me.
“When am I annoying, Noah?” I asked with a smile on my face.
He wrinkled his nose in thought and I stared at him, thinking about how cute he is. “You’re annoying when you think you did something wrong.”
“Huh?” I asked in confusion.
“Like when you apologized earlier, you didn’t really need to apologize, you know?” he told me. “You assume I’m offended or bothered when I’m not.”
“Well, you ignored me for a week, so I assumed you didn’t exactly want anything to do with me,” I told him.
“After you told me you liked me, you ran out of my house like it was on fire and you peeled out of the driveway. I figured you wanted some space,” he told me and I cringed at the way he casually mentioned my feelings for him.
That’s the last thing I wanted, you idiot. I wanted you to hug me and to kiss me and to tell me that you like me just as much as I like you. “So you avoid me at all costs in the hallway? You practically dove back into the classroom. Tom Daley would be jealous of your skills.”
“That would have been an awkward walk to the bathroom, don’t you think?” he asked me, ignoring my comment about the gorgeous diver.
Admittedly, he was right, but I was secretly hoping that we’d fix things and kiss like they do in the movies. “Yeah,” I decided to respond.
The bell rang loudly, signaling the end of lunch and I quickly threw away my food, putting the top back on the Tupperware container and getting ready to head to Algebra 2 for extra help. “Kennedy, wait.”
I turned around and waited for Noah’s long legs to reach me. “Was that you flirting with me?” he asked with furrowed eyebrows.
My face began to blush and I averted my gaze to a table beside Noah. “Yes,” I stupidly admitted.
“I know. I just wanted you to know that I know,” he told me. I immediately looked at him, noticing the smirk on his lips. “Thanks for the social interactions lesson.”
I stared at him, baffled. “Y-You can’t do that!” I hissed as he walked away.
“Do what?” he asked me curiously, trying to look innocent.
I let out a frustrated breath as I walked to Algebra 2. That idiot.