Page 143 of The Breaking Pointe
“Call me Robin, okay?”She grins, nodding.“Okay,” I respond, even though that feels wrong.
I carefully extend my arm out to try the same tactic with her as I did with Noelle’s father, but she confidently pushes my arm aside.Mushing herself into me, her arms whip around my frame, squeezing me into a warm, soulful hug. For a moment, I’m unsure where to place my arms, unsure if I should even reciprocate.
But the energy radiating from her absorbs me, similar to someone very specific.
Giving in, I reach my arms around her to hug her back, clos- ing my eyes as my chin rests over her shoulder—pretending, for as long as I can, that it’s my mother I’m holding onto.
“You’re allowed to feel at home, here, okay?” she whis- pers, holding onto me with that same, safe grasp my mother once used to give me.
“Okay,”Imumble.
“Guys,” Noelle, says shyly.“I don’t wanna ruin the moment, but it’s really cold, and the taxi driver needs us to unload the car.”
My eyes shoot open to see her father already beginning to empty the SUV, prompting both her mother and I let go of each other.
“I can help,” Noelle adds as I start to walk over to the car. “You wanna help?” I ask, smiling at her.
“Yeah, of course.”She nods, giggling.
Ireachinthecar,andgrabasmallbag,filledwithher
makeup and hair items, pulling it out and holding it out for her.
“Beadoll,willya?”Iwinkather.
“Cole,” she groans.“I can carry heavier stuff.”
“I’m not doubting that, baby.But it doesn’t mean you need to.” I kiss her head, handing her the bag.
She lets out an accepting sigh. “Fine. I’ll be impatiently waiting inside. Only because you told me to.”
She lifts her chin to the sky, prancing off to prove her point, leaving me to do my job.
* * *
I’m heavily relying on my knowledge of sports to get meby for this first evening with Noelle’s dad.I have reasonto assume that her dad would admire my smarts, but it’s not the typical things dads are interested in. Though, to my speculation, he seems unpredictable when it comes to his personality.He holds four different degrees, and he leans on the sophisticated side. Yet, the sophistication walked out the door since he turned the Bears game on.Just goes to show that us men will always resort to being men when all is said and done.
All morals are nonexistent when our favorite teams are losing, and that’s just the God given truth.
Noelle’s father and I spent a consecutive three to four hours grumbling and complaining about scores, stats, and flags on different plays while she, her mother, and Steven spent time in the kitchen, cooking up what might be one of the best Christmas dinners I’ll have had yet.I can’t officially confirm that, but I can for sure confirm that every food test
that Noelle has come in the room to give me has been nothing short of splendid in every way.The smell alone is enough to make my appetite return with full force. After spending weeks in a hole with no will to eat a proper meal, I’m shocked that I’m not ravishing like a caveman.
At first I’m hesitant to involve myself with her family so soon, so suddenly.It feels discourteous and ill-mannered to do so, and I’m not at my best.I fear for making her family question my credibility and truthfulness, based on my personal upkeep and attitude—hence me rushing myself to get groomed and primped like it’s integral. Because it is integral to me. Every first impression sets the tone for the rest of an encounter, and possible relationship with anyone. I’m sure Daniel gave them each plenty of reasons to question who I am.Which isn’t my fault—but it makes this matter all the more pertinent.
Mr. Mayberry waltzes around the couch, planting himself beside me with two new beers. He cracks one open, causally making it his third.I myself am hanging onto the last sips of my first, yearning for more, but knowing that more is a bad decision.As much as I’d like to celebrate by drinking, I’m too nervous to. I can usually trust myself with three or four, but with my luck, I’ll say the most insensitive thing known to man, and ruin the entire trip before it’s begun.
“Here, son. Have another. Looks like the game is making you tense.” He blends laughter with his words, holding out the unopened can for me to take.
“Uh, I don’t know. I don’t wanna drink all your beer—” I mosey up an excuse, only to get shot down.
“Son, take the beer. It’s what I got them for,” he insists, placing it in my hand, which forces me to take it.
With hesitance, I pull the tab with a finger, listening to the aluminum tear as it opens. At the same time, the palm of his hand collides with my shoulder, patting it and giving it a firm squeeze.
“You don’t have to be uptight or uncomfortable.Our house is a safe place, alright?” he says, dispelling my fears from brewing up into something more.
“Thank you,” I respond, noticing his hand, then looking at his face and raising a corner of my mouth to give him a half smile. He nods once, dropping his hand and forwarding his attention to the television for a mere second before locking in his attention to me again.
