Page 25 of Mr. Picture Perfect
I feel his fingers curling tightly on my shirt, tugging on me, pulling me close to his body, reeling me in like meat. His eyes dig into me with the amount of machine focus he gives his tasks. He proves to me with every stroke of his fingers that he is not the shy boy he seems on the outside.
Something deep in him stirs, just like it stirs inside me.
There has to be a reason he let me stand so close to him in that living room. A reason he’s turning his schedule inside-out to interview me. A reason he’s not yet brave enough to say.
“Can we do the morning tomorrow?” he asks. “If you plan to go to service, then we could do the afternoon. Otherwise I think the morning is the best. My mom and I used to go to church,” he volunteers suddenly, eyes pulled momentarily from his phone for a thought. “Don’t know why we stopped. Anyway, if we interview in the morning, I can use the afternoon to write. That’ll reduce the likelihood of working into the night. Plus I could prepare for the shoot Monday morning … if it’s still happening Monday. I can’t recall what Burton and Nadine decided. They kept going back and forth.” He sighs. “Should’ve taken more notes. Also …”
My eyes become lost to the dance of his cute lips.
His precious, incorrigibly kissable lips.
I just adore the way they move whenever he speaks. It’s the same as it’s always been, how his adorable, heart-shaped lips hang parted between his thoughts. His forehead does this cute thing where it wrinkles up and twists when he seems to be searching for a word. Now and then while he’s talking, his right eyebrow will flick upward a little all on its own, too, and it makes him look so doe-eyed and precious to me.
“Cole?”
He’s staring. I think I might’ve missed something. “Y-Yes?”
“You’re okay with that? Doing the interview at your house?”
Okay, I definitely missed something. “Uh, yes … sure. Is that what’s better for you?”
“If I’m taking photos, then yes, it will be more interesting for the readers if I capture you in your home environment. I guess that settles it.” He gives his phone one final tap before pocketing it. “Tomorrow morning at ten.”
“Tomorrow at ten,” I agree absently, lost in his eyes, happy.
Noah nods, then turns to head off.
Suddenly, I can’t stand it. “Wait! Noah?”
He stops and peers back at me. “Yes?”
And again, I find myself prematurely demanding his attention without knowing what in the hell I want to say to him.
What is it exactly that I want to communicate?
That he’s been on my mind for years?
That my entire high school existence was fueled by my secret desire to protect him from afar?
That I think he’s the most adorable, intriguing, and sweetest person in all of Texas?
Instead of any of that, the front door flies open and Burton’s voice booms from the front porch. “Hey, Noah! You ready to head back? I gotta drop somemassivekids off at the pool and there was no way I was about to blow up Nadine’s toilet.”
Noah visibly suppresses a cringe. “Y-Yes, I’m ready.”
“Can’t promise I won’t let out a few silent-but-deadlies on the way. We gotta go, though, beforeIgo. Hey there, Cole,” he says as he passes by, slapping me on the back along the way.
Noah meets my eyes for half a second. “I will see you in the morning … big bro.”
Big bro.
He seriously just called me “big bro”.
I really hate Nadine suddenly.
“Just kidding,” he says flatly.
I wasn’t sure until this moment whether Noah was capable of humor at all. He’s always so serious all the time.
