Page 27 of Backslide
“Yup.” He nods, all seriousness. “It’s a little-known fact that Cheerios can cure literally any ailment.”
Nellie eyes him doubtfully. “A cold?”
“Obviously.”
“The flu?”
“Sure.”
“Leprosy?”
“I mean, I haven’t tested that one. But seriously, I don’t understand the exact science of it, but apparently oats can temporarily raise your glucose levels, which—when blended with the protein in milk—can make the high shorter.”
He looks so damn earnest, holding out that cereal box, that she figures it’s worth a shot. And anyway, what choice does she have, because he is already pulling down a bowl and grabbing a quart of milk from the fridge and so,yes, she is going to eat a bowl of cereal in a stranger’s apartment with the boy she’s been fantasizing about for months.
Maybe she’s hallucinating?
“Is this weird?” she asks, glancing around this unfamiliar kitchen with its French blue tiles and sugar jar in the shape of Garfield. There’s a vintage tin sign propped against the backsplash that reads: FRESHSTRAWBERRIES.
He rifles through more drawers looking for a spoon. “Is what weird?”
“Me eating in Ben’s kitchen when I don’t even really know him.”
“Who’s Ben?”
“Your friend. The guy. The person who lives here.”
“His name is Clark.”
“Wait, really?” Her eyes widen. She jogs her memory. Had she used his name when she said hi?
Noah grins and hands her the spoon, gesturing toward the now-full bowl of cereal on the counter. “Nah. I’m just fucking with you. His name is Ben.”
“Really?”
“Maybe.”
“Hey,” she says, bending to take her first bite, which turns out to be kind of heavenly. “Don’t mess with me. I’m in a vulnerable state.”
“Fair enough,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. “But it’s hard to resist.”
Hard to resist like the adorable, crooked smile on his face. His eyes, twinkling in amusement at her expense. The way his arms flex when he crosses them over his chest and watches her eat.
She takes a shuddered inhale.
“Ben is cool,” he says. “He won’t care. Also, you’re pretty cute. I don’t think he’ll mind you being in his kitchen.”
She’s prettycute? Cute like a drooling bulldog? Or cute like she’s hot?
At this point, probably the bulldog. Let’s be honest.
So maybe she screwed up her chances with this guy forever, she thinks, but, as she closes her eyes and takes bite after bite, at least she is having the best bowl of cereal of her life. Why doesn’t she eat Cheerios more often?They are delicious.
And is it her imagination or does she feel the bedlam in her head starting to quiet as she eats and, if she’s honest, as she talks to this boy? This Noah. Who, even from a distance, she had known was special. Who is now standing next to her, his lean but muscular biceps popping as he absently checks his beeper.
“I’m Nellie, by the way,” she mumbles between bites.
“Hi Nellie.”
