Page 32 of The Luck of Finding You
Noah shakes his head and sticks his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I almost knocked it off, but I caught both the box and the hot chocolate machine before there was any damage.”
I let out a breath, relieved that I can still have hot chocolate in the morning. I’m relieved that I don’t have to sit through any more of that bad date.
“Want to grab something to eat? Like an actual burger?”
I should say no. I really, really should say no. “I’m starving.”
“Let’s go.” Noah holds out a hand, but I shake my head. No more physical contact. I do follow him to his car though, which has heat and does not make me feel like I’m going to die every time he accelerates.
* * *
We endup sitting outside an In-N-Out after going through the drive-through. I sigh when I take my first bite.
“That good, huh?” Noah asks, smiling into his own burger.
“You have no idea.” I take another bite and watch a group of teenagers come out of the restaurant, all talking and laughing. One of the girls looks a little lovestruck as she looks up at one of her friends. I remember feeling like that once. That’s how I used to look at Peter. And probably how I looked at Noah during our afternoon together. Everything changed after that day. I should probably be over it by now. I was only eighteen at the time. Mom would be sad that I gave up on love so soon. And sure, I often entertained daydreams in my mind where things worked out with the cute guy at the grocery store or the Noah from my dreams, but I didn’t actually believe in true, lasting love. Maybe for some people, but not for me.
“Tally?” Noah asks, and I think I’ve missed something he said.
“Yeah?”
“Why are you staring at those teenagers?”
“What?” I ask, trying to play it off. “I think I kind of was just staring into space.”
Thankfully, Noah accepts this explanation.
“So, why did you really go out with that guy?” Noah asks, and part of me hates how straightforward he is. This would be a lot easier if he didn’t seem so open about what he wanted because there’s a tiny part of me that’s thinking it’smethat he wants, but I don’t let that thought take root in my mind.
“Like I said, I knew him when we were younger. He posted something online and I saw that he was in town, and I thought it might be fun to go out,” I say, shuddering at the words. “But that was the opposite of fun.”
“Which part? Him ordering your food for you or your ex-boyfriend also being there?” Noah takes a sip of his shake.
I start to laugh. The whole thing was so ridiculous. “He showed up to my house on a scooter, you know, those little moped things. He said her name is Apple. Who names a scooter?”
“Me. I named a scooter,” Noah says, straight-faced.
“What?” I never liked motorcycles or scooters; Holly thinks they’re cool, but I am not a fan. I look down at my half-eaten burger. Would it worth it to jump out of the car and leave right now?
Noah’s laugh fills the car. “I’m kidding. I’ve never owned a scooter.”
I roll my eyes. Of course he would joke about that, but I’m grateful he’s lightened the mood.
“I’m not sure what the worst part of that date was—the scooter, the ordering my food, or the fact that he said a girl like me shouldn’t eat burgers.”
“Yeah, that guy’s a dirt bag,” Noah says as he frowns. Feels kind of nice to have him be angry about something since he’s always so calm.
“Or something like that. I was pretty mad, and I don’t remember exactly what he said because I blocked it from my memory already. But that was the gist.” We’re quiet for a second.
“This is why I don’t date,” I say, right as Noah starts talking.
“I hate men like that,” he says vehemently. “You need a guy who accepts you for you and doesn’t try to do things like that for you. You can eat whatever you want. You are your own person; you don’t need someone making choices like that or about anything.”
I blink, watching him carefully. I reach for my fries instead of replying, instead of looking at Noah, because why did he have to say the perfect thing right then? I guess it makes sense, on some level, that he would say something like that. He seems like a decent enough guy and he reads romance novels.
“If your dates treat you like he did, I can see why you’d hate dating.” Noah is watching me carefully now. “You deserve so much better.”
“Better than you?” The words are out of my mouth before I can catch them.
