"Maggie," Noah waved over to me. He was already seated at a table, but stood up as soon as he saw me. His eyes brightened as they took in my appearance.
"You look gorgeous," he said in my ear as his hand slipped warmly onto my back. If it were anyone else that touched me, I'd lean away but I'd gotten comfortable whenever he touched me. His touch was always gentle. He had a habit of swinging his elbows too much when he ran and constantly bumped into me. Once also he grabbed my arms and restrained me from crossing the street in front of a car that hadn't yielded. While I certainly noticed these contacts, they actually didn't bother me.
This time, the tenderness on my back made my heart flip faster.
He likes the dress.
I smiled, from the inside out.
"I like your hair tied back too." His hand lifted off me and held out a chair.
"Thanks." I waited until he sat down across from me before I leaned forwards and admitted with a smile, "I literally just bought the dress. My only other option was my lab coat."
"I like seeing you like this. Smiling so much, I mean." As he casually picked up a menu and glanced at it, I used the opportunity to take in his appearance. He'd shaved, but his hair fell naturally across his forehead and around his ears. He'd opted for a navy blue tailored shirt over dress slacks. A tiny silver cross necklace hung from his neck. Looking at him face to face was different than when I ran by his side, from this view it was obvious how attractive he was.
My mind clicked.
"What's that?" I pointed at his necklace. His fingers reached up to it, he undid the clasp, handing it over to me. It curled into a warm ball within my palm.
"It was my Gram's," he answered in a soft voice. "She sent it to me, said she was praying for us."
"Why?"
"She worries about me being in the city. She watches BBC news on the telly then calls me to recap it. She worries when the wind blows, but this coronavirus stuff has her wound up."
"It's the COVID-19 strain," I corrected him as my eyes lifted from the small cross in my palm to his eyes. "That's our name for it. There's a lot more strains out there than what's currently making people sick."
"Well, that's reassuring. I'll refrain from sharing that with her." I looked at him silently, handed him the necklace back, and waited for him to pick up on the information I'd just revealed. His eyes narrowed slightly.
Here it comes...
"Wait, is that what you're working on!?" His voice sounded a bit higher pitched and louder than I would have expected.
"Shh!" I hushed as my hands fanned between us. "I'm not supposed to discuss it outside the lab but yes. Please... don't share that."
"I won't. No wonder you've been working so much. It must be bloody stressful, I'm sorry." Noah's words warmed me all over when I heard that his initial reaction wasn't he peppered me with questions about the virus and what we did with it, but rather concern for my mental state of mind.
"It's okay," I assured him with a smile. "Just please keep that to yourself. Even from your family."
"I will." He returned my smile. "I've mentioned you a bit, but that would probably just freak them out."
"You mentioned me?" My forehead tensed as my eyebrows lifted.
"A bit." His eyes flickered with amusement as he repeated the phrase. My mind clicked and filled in the blanks.
That's why he said praying for 'us.'
"Your grandmother sounds sweet," I replied. "Worrying shows she cares. How old is she?"
"Eighty-three." The increased sensitivity of the elderly population above seventy immediately appeared in my mind. Amy had run hundreds of observational study reports on cases reported within other countries, only to conclude that the virus was more deadly for certain population subgroups.
That's not good.
"Can I ask you something personal?" I suddenly shifted the topic before I blurted out my thoughts, which would've more than likely sounded completely insensitive.
"Of course." He sat back against his chair with that familiar ease exuding from him already.
"Good evening folks. Welcome. Drinks tonight?" The waiter interrupted us. Noah's eyes traveled to me.
"I'll just take water, please," I said with a tight smile.
"I'll have the same," he added.
"You can get whatever you want," I assured him.
"I know you're not a big drinker, so it's okay. Just water." He nodded at the waiter, who dismissed himself.
"It's not that I don't like it, just not the way it slows my brain down," I admitted. "If that makes any sense."
"Maggie, last thing I'd want to do is slow your brain down," he said with a laugh. "Although I might have a better chance of keeping up with you if I did."
"What do you mean?" I stared curiously at him.
"We both know you're bloody brilliant, more brilliant than our entire department." My stare melted into a warm smile. The pleasant feelings behind my smile were short lived though, after images of the frustrating week flashed through my mind.
"It's not helping now," I admitted with a sigh, picked up the menu in one hand, and glanced at the options.
"Hey, it's okay." He set down his menu, extended his hand, and placed his palm atop mine. I looked at the gesture in amusement, as the same warmth I'd felt when he'd done that at the cafeteria returned.
"You'll figure it out. I know you will..." He rubbed my hand warmly, then retracted his hand. "Do you know what you want?"
"What?" My thoughts were suddenly disorganized.
"To eat." He pointed at the menu. I shook my head, so he suggested, "How about this? I order something for you, you order something for me? If we don't like it then we can swap plates."
"Okay," I sat back and abandoned my menu.
This will be easy. I got this.
"Ready to order?" The waiter reappeared. "Ma'am?"
I glanced at Noah for a moment, then said, "Side of Caesar salad, please add bacon. Ribeye steak plate, cooked medium well with broccoli slaw and roasted potatoes. Oh, and could I get the garlic butter for the potatoes on the side?"
Noah stared at me.
"Very good." The waiter nodded. "And you sir?
"I was going to go with the chicken and side salad, but I now I feel a bit inadequate." My smile erupted into a small laugh. "So let's add a chocolate lava cake dessert for my depression."
"Great, be twenty to thirty minutes." The waiter disappeared.
"Explain that please, love." Noah pretended to frown at me.
I took a deep breath, then smiled. "Okay, the second time we went running you said that your dorm cafe was terrible at undercooking beef. That the beef wellington tasted like they pulled it off the floor of the slaughterhouse, so I figured best to go with medium well so it's not completely burned but cooked through."
"You don't like most vegetables, but at the corner of Malet Street and Montague Place, you said broccoli was tolerable enough because it was your brother Christian's favorite food when he was six. That was the only broccoli option on the menu. You despise salads but everything is better with bacon, so that's obvious. Only thing I wasn't sure was if you like potatoes, and last Monday you said 'Why do restaurants drown everything in butter?' so I..."
"... asked for it on... the side." I slowed my voice. "...What?"
I was suddenly flashed back to when I'd solved Tucker's proof on my first day of work. Noah wore the same expression Tucker, Amy, Adam, and Dr. McKenna had worn. Yet like that time, I knew I wasn't wrong, I remembered everything perfectly.
"Okay, now I'm definitely feeling inadequate." He sat back and laughed heartily. "Your mind is a beautiful thing. How did you do that?"
"My mind doesn't work like most people's," I admitted quietly as my eyes averted downwards.
"I'll say." His words washed warmly over the table between us. "I'm extremely impressed. It's like you have a photographic memory."
"Yeah, kind of." I fidgeted a bit in my seat, unsure of how to describe it.
Please don't ask me to explain it.
"Kind of? Can you explain it to me?"
I looked up at him with wide eyes. My mind clicked.
Use an analogy.
"Okay..." I thought for a moment, then one immediately came to mind. "When you go to the library, how do you look for a book?"
"Go to the kiosk and search..." I waved my hand for him to continue. "...on the library network, using a key word search."
"Right. Most people's minds are like that, a web of synapse connections in short and long-term memory that you access into using key words. Memories, triggers. You pull out whatever you remember, all of it or pieces."
"Makes sense." He spoke slowly as he obviously thought over my explanation. "So how does yours work then?"
My cheeks flushed and I dropped my eyes absently to my water glass. I picked it up and ran my finger around the rim.
"Like... An old card catalogue system," I admitted with a small sigh.
Fortunately, he knew what I meant since he asked, "You mean, the paper files at the library?"
I nodded, glad he understood my reference. The paper systems weren't exactly used anymore.
"Yeah. Everything is stored in rows, and my mind has it all organized. Words, pictures, images. Books. The entire map of London, lady bug in the park, the Tyndall blue in your eyes when I first saw you at The Rugby Pub, everything I've ever seen or heard. I can pull this out of any row at a given time like a librarian. At some point I assume the cabinet will run out of drawers, but so far it just keeps getting bigger."
I didn't realize I'd held my breath in, until I exhaled deeply after all that rushed out. My eyes stayed focused on my water glass as I realized the weight of my candid admission included very detailed information about Noah himself, how he was ingrained within me.
Out of my peripheral vision, he shifted backwards and leaned into his seat. He sat silently for a few moments. I waited for him to digest everything, since what I'd said was a lot to soak in. I'd never said this to anyone before, not even the speech therapists.
When I finally lifted my eyes up, his shone brightly.
"Thank you, Maggie," he finally said and folded his hands in his lap.
"What?"
"For being so honest. I appreciate that. I knew you were special. Although I now have the urge to Google what Tyndall blue is, so thanks for that."
"Umm... You're welcome." At this point I just appreciated how he didn't look at me like I was a complete freak. But again, this was another reminder of how open and accepting he was.
No judgement.
"So... You were saying earlier, personal question?" He asked. I nodded silently.
"Although the last time you said those words to me, you asked for a blood donation.." He frowned in concern as his voice trailed off. "You don't need more, do you?
"No." I smiled at the relief I saw in his eyes. "Why are we here?"
"Well." He leaned forwards with a half smile, half smirk, playfully pulled up his sleeve, and checked the time on his watch. "Call me crazy. It's time for dinner. I bet you're hungry, and tired of eating cafeteria food. I'm hungry, tired of dorm food, and don't want to eat anything that people have been buggering over at the supermarket. I literally saw some random knobhead steal toilet paper from elderly people's trollies. So I think we both need this."
"Knobhead?" I echoed the unfamiliar word.
He nodded, then clarified with, "Dickhead."
Oh.
"Although technically you asked me, remember?" He reminded me with a wink.
"Technically Amy asked." As I reminded him, my cheeks felt a little warm and I pressed one palm against one.
Am I blushing? Why am I blushing?
"I'm glad she did," he said simply.
"Me too. But you didn't answer my question," I inquired further. "Are we... friends?"
"Yes, if that's what you want." I stared at him silently. Half of me was elated.
A real friend. My first non-acquaintance friend.
The other half felt, well a bit deflated. But I couldn't figure out why, these were new thought processes for me. And I couldn't understand the latter part of what he said.
"Noah," I started tentatively, as these words were a bit harder to get out. "I mean, why are you here, with me?"
"I like you," he said simply, then reached forwards and took a sip of water as casually as if I'd just asked him about the weather.
"But... why??" I implored. He laughed, choking a little on his water, so I pushed, "You must've noticed right away.. I'm not..."
"Like anyone else?" He offered. "I know, that's why I like you."
"Noah, that's not helping." I took a deep breath, fighting the words that wouldn't come out.
"Maggie, it's okay." He leaned forwards and placed his hand back over mine. "I'm sorry I'm so simple but I'm here because I like you. Especially after you just told me how your mind works. And you're easy on these genetically deficient eyes, especially right now."
I looked at his face and how his eyes were shining again.
Did he just call me pretty?
His eyes glinted and turned mischievous though, and he asked, "Why are you here?"
I stared at him, half in shock, half in embarrassment. He smiled warmly and his eyes sent me an encouraging look. I felt the gentle graze of his fingers as they shifted, his thumb now rubbed along the hills and valleys of my knuckles.
"Just say what's on your mind. I want to hear your thoughts."
I glanced at his hand, as if I drew strength from the warm sensation that was now drawing up my wrist.
"I'm not good with... talking, Noah."
"You're talking right now." After his statement, I paused again as my mind clicked to put the right words together. He must have sensed the tension I felt inside, because he added, "Don't worry about how you think your thoughts sound love, just say them. We'll sort it out then."
"Expressing myself. The card catalogue thing, it's easy for me to sort within the rows, but connecting across them is really hard. A lot of things run through my mind and it's like things get stuck, right here." I pointed to my throat.
My eyes looked straight into his as I admitted, "I usually keep them inside, but with you they come out easier... That's why I'm here."
"Well, bollocks," he sat back and looked at me, eyes shining. "You could've just gone with my dashing good looks and smashing musical skills."
"I'm sorry." I felt dryness in the back of my throat.
Did I share too much?
"Don't be." His hand hadn't left mine once. "That's the nicest thing anyone's told me... But I'm sticking with I just like you and think you're pretty, so my turn to be sorry."
"Don't be." I smiled.