Page 111 of Backslide
As much as I don’t want to face reality, it’s coming to call. I surely have at least three hundred texts from Cara already.
I twist my head and peer regretfully up at Noah, who is still sound asleep. Groan quietly against his chest. Resist the urge to press kisses across his rib cage. He is a sight to behold in the dawn’s early light, sun particles percolating around him like fairy dust.
How did I ever tolerate Alfie?
Noah’s lashes are black against his cheek, his lips parted, the scruff on his jaw just a little heavier than the previous day’s. Hischest, which I’ve been using as a pillow, looks even more sculpted in daylight and he’s got one perfect tanned leg sticking out from beneath the comforter. Basically, he’s like a not overly worked-out Greek god. And the last thing I want to do is get up.
But I must. Because—as much as I now acknowledge that there’s something real between us, that there always has been, that he is not the same boy he was when I knew him and yet stillisin the good ways—I also know that there’s no future for us. I live in New York. He lives in LA.
We have full lives that we’re not just going to uproot for each other. We wouldn’t do it then, and we won’t do it now. The truth is, just because we’ve both caught feelings and a license to bone, doesn’t mean that we would work in the real world.
There’s so much more to a relationship than that.
And I am looking at him likely with as much doubt as affection when he opens one eye, peers at me, and murmurs, “Stop freaking out.”
“What makes you think I’m freaking out?”
“Because,” he says, “you’re freaking out.”
I sit up and he pulls me back down. “Noah, I have to get up.”
He shakes his head. “I have better ideas.”
I giggle because of course I do. But I am also all business. “Look, mister,” I say, poking him in the chest. “Take your ideas elsewhere. We need coffee and we need food. And we need to get the fuck back to Sonoma, assuming the flooding has subsided—because Cara is probably mid-coronary.”
“She’ll survive,” Noah yawns, turning on his side to face me and nudging me with his knee. “Besides, I’m also mid-coronary.”
“Really? Your heart seems just fine to me.”
“No, really,” he insists. “Feel it.”
I roll my eyes but lean forward and press my hand flat to his chest—but it’s a trick! He grabs me and pulls me on top of him again.
“Okay. All better,” he says, his arms wrapped around me as I straddle him.
“Oh, thank God. I’m a miracle worker. Take me on the road.”
“Okay.” He shrugs. “I’ll take you anywhere.”
It’s a pretty convincing argument—the hard planes of his body under mine. A perfect fit. His lids still heavy with sleep.
I bury my face in his neck. Breathe him in. But then I escape, scooting to the bathroom before he can stop me.
I will get my head on straight.
Cara has indeed texted.A lot.
She is worried about the oysters. But also us. But mostly the oysters.
And she’s a little bit worried about the explosive combination of me and Noah.
Cara
I’m so sorry! I would never have sent you without me if I thought you’d get stuck with HIM! Are you okay?
Nellie
I’m okay.
