Page 89 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
“What about you?” I ask.
“I have a younger brother and sister. My brother and his wife have two little kids.”
More food arrives, and she eagerly digs in. I watch her eat for a few seconds, admiring her dark eyes and the smattering of freckles on her nose and cheeks, before I help myself to some tofu.
The food is all very good, and when I ask if she wants dessert, she suggests we share the matcha cheesecake.
“It wasn’t on the menu the last time I came here,” she says, and she seems delighted by the new addition. Her delight is quiet, understated—but it doesn’t escape my notice. Just like I noticed her pleasure when she tried the blueberry tea on Thursday.
A plate and two forks are placed in the middle of the table, and we both lean forward as we help ourselves to the cheesecake. Underneath the table, my knee brushes against hers, and I don’t move away.
Afterward, she insists on splitting the bill, and we leave the izakaya and wander south on Yonge Street. She tucks her gloved hand into the crook of my elbow.
“Is this okay?” she asks.
“Of course.” It’s more than okay.
Tonight has certainly gone better than my date with Delphine last fall.
A few flakes of snow are falling, and it’s actually rather romantic. Valentine’s Day is a week away, and I wonder how I should acknowledge that when we’ve only just started dating. Assuming Noelle wants to keep dating, that is, but I have a feeling she does.
At Mel Lastman Square, I stop and watch the skaters on the ice. “There was a night market here in the summer. It was kinda cool.”
“Oh,” she says faintly. “Right. Yes. I went too. I had dumplings.”
There’s something odd in her tone, but before I can process that, her arms are around my neck. She tilts her face toward me, snowflakes in her eyelashes. It’s the cutest fucking thing.
I drop my head and kiss her.
As soon as my lips meet hers, it feelsright, like we’re meant to be here on a February night, making out under a streetlamp. It’s also strangely familiar, but I think that’s just because it feels so right and good. I hold her as close as I can with our giant winter jackets and sink everything I have into coaxing soft little moans from her. She tastes of winter and matcha and something undefinable. Honestly, I’m tempted to say she tastes like magic.
“Hey,” I say afterward, swiping my thumb over her chin.
“Hey.” She smiles at me, though the smile disappears as her teeth start chattering.
“It’s too bad I can’t make you a blueberry tea right now.” I take her elbow. “We should head to the subway station.”
“G-good idea.”
She doesn’t invite me to come home with her, and I don’t ask.
“You know,” she says, “I got sprayed by a skunk once. Near here.”
That surprises a laugh out of me. “What were you doing to upset the skunk?”
“Nothing, I swear.”
“What’d you use to get out the smell?”
“Hydrogen peroxide, dish soap, and baking soda.”
“Was it gone by the next day?”
She hesitates. “Yeah, mostly.”
“Can I take you out again?”
It’s an abrupt change in conversation, but I want to ask now because we’ve reached the station and I don’t know if she’s going the same way as me.
