Page 106 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
I picture her sitting at her desk, brows lightly furrowed in concentration, in that cute way she has when she’s studying a menu, for example. To be honest, I don’t know exactly what engineersdo—as in, their daily tasks—but she said something about a recycling plant. Of course, she was mostly naked at the time, so it’s possible I misheard, but I don’t think I did.
At last, I get an answer.
NOELLE: Yes, let’s do something on Sunday. I’ll make time to talk to you tomorrow too.
That makes me feel better temporarily, but then I worry it’ll be some kind of serious talk. Though why would she have agreed to see me on Sunday if she plans to end things?
It’s unlike me to worry so much, but I continue to wonder if something’s wrong. I wish I could relive this past weekend—and Monday night—so I could fix it, whatever it is.
I also wish we’d started dating last year, so she had the chance to meet my grandmother, who could have told her about the bootlegged dramas on VHS that we used to watch together… and how they made me cry. The timing of everything seems horribly unfair.
When it comes to Noelle, I have endless wishes, yet I have no idea what she wishes when it comes tome. I thought I understood her, but now, I’m positive I’m missing something. I just can’t figure it out.
41Noelle
When I get home from work on Thursday, I change into some more comfortable clothes and debate what to have for dinner. I’m usually—as in, pre–June 20—the sort of person who plans most of her meals the weekend before, but I didn’t do that last Sunday, and I haven’t been in the mood to cook all week. So once again, I open up the cupboard where I keep my instant noodles. I needed to shop at two different Asian grocery stores to build this collection, and I’ve been going through it faster than usual.
“No,” Avery says, suddenly appearing at my side as I start the kettle. “You’re not having ramen again like a broke university student.”
I’m offended. “These aren’t the kind of instant noodles that broke students eat. They’re expensive ones.” Not too expensive, of course. Still cheap enough that my frugal self didn’t feel guilty for buying them.
Avery rolls her eyes as she puts the noodles back into the cupboard. She knows where everything goes now.
“Hey!” I say. It’s nice to feel outraged, to have an outlet for my negative emotions.
She gestures to the oven. “I’m making you dinner.”
“You don’t need to feed me.”
“Noelle.” She says my name sharply, and it makes me stand up straight. “You’ve let me stay here for weeks without complaint, even though I know you don’t like having people in your space, and when I tried to pay you, you refused. The least you can do is let me cook you dinner every now and then.”
“Fine,” I grumble. Whatever she has in the oven does smell good.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re seated at my small dining room table. We each have a plate of baked ziti and green salad. I start with the salad because the pasta looks a little hot.
Avery, rather than eating, says, “You’ve been mopey lately.”
“Have not.” I’m doing a good job of sounding like a sullen teenager today.
“What happened with Cam? Have you spoken to him since Tuesday morning?”
“We texted,” I reply. “I agreed to see him on Sunday.”
“You don’t sound very excited, considering you’re in love with him and all.”
“But he’s not in love with me! He doesn’t know me well enough for that.”
“Look,” she says, “you’re an honest person, unlike some people I know. I get why you feel the need to tell Cam about the things he doesn’t remember. I think you should. Yes, it’s scary, but you won’t know until you try. Did the wedding invitation bother you that much?”
I pick up a forkful of pasta, watch the steam rise from it, and set it back down with a sigh. “I’m convinced it won’t go well, and unlike before, I won’t have a chance to try again. I don’t like putting myself out there.”
“Yet you did it anyway. Many, many times.”
“Like I said, it was different then.”
“But Cam believed you every time you told him, didn’t he?”
That’s true, but I don’t have the “proof” that I had back then. It’s just my word—and Avery’s. Plus his slight feeling of déjà vu.
