Page 46 of Backslide
“You do?” She’s surprised. Mostly that he hasn’t mentioned this before. But, to his relief, she doesn’t seem to find it funny or strange.
People keep telling them they’re opposites. But maybe they’re not as different as they think.
“Yeah,” he says, eyes downcast. “I love comics. And I sometimes draw my own.”
“That’s cool!” She is touched by how shy he suddenly seems. “How come you never talk about it?”
“I feel like people are more interested in the baseball,” he says with a shrug. “Even my mom is more interested in the baseball.”
Nellie looks at him, hard, in the eyes. “Well, I’m not more interested in the baseball. In fact, I’m kind of relieved! I assumed you were just humoring me in European paintings. And when I freaked out over that Degas photography show.”
“Well, I was,” he says. “But only because I prefer dumb girls.”
“Prefer dumb girls… forwhat?” she challenges.
It is the unspoken thing he has acknowledged. Thewhyin why they’re here.
She gives his arm a light shove. He grabs her hand before she can fully retreat. Something flutters in her chest as he weaves his fingers through hers, examines her palm.
“Damn,” she teases. “I guess maybe I need to give Sebastian another chance after all. Maybehelikes artsy girls.”
Noah frowns. Doesn’t like the joke.
“I’m pretty sure your friend Lydia beat you to it.”
Nellie’s eyes narrow. “Friendis a loose term. Did she really?”
“Yup. By the time I got back to Ben’s house that day, they were in a corner…” He shrugs like,doing you know what. They both know what. And it hangs in the air between them. “I don’t like that idea anyway. You with Sebastian. Bad call.”
“Oh, yeah?” Nellie says, tilting her head to peer playfully up into Noah’s face. “Why not?”
“Because. I’ve got a better plan.”
And then he leans in and, as she braces herself against the jagged surface of the rock with her free hand, he slides his palm to the small of her back and presses his full lips to hers. Softly first. Tentatively. Until she’s kissing him back harder, her hands slipping around his neck as she edges closer to him. He tastes like lemonade, smells like the mowed grass of a thousand baseball diamonds. Heat rises between them. And she has never been so outside her body and in itat the same time as she sinks into him. Thinks,Oh this is what this is supposed to feel like, as he pulls her closer and, without realizing what she’s even doing, she climbs on top of him, straddling him.
Their wishes from the fountain—the same silent prayers—have come true.
They have both been waiting for this for months. Been thinking about this moment for what feels like eons, especially in teen years—when a week is a month and a month is a year. Have wasted countless hours imagining a scenario just like this one, when, all the time, it was theirs for the taking. And now they can’t hide their impatience. They are zero to sixty.
Under Noah’s shirt, his skin is warm as Nellie slides her hand up his back, then down the hard planes of his stomach, until he inhales sharply. And finally, he loses his balance a bit as his arm slips just slightly against the boulder. And she yelps as they teeter and threaten to fall. And then they’re both laughing against each other’s mouths, self-consciously, suddenly remembering where they are.
Their hair, their clothing, their expressions—it’s all askew.
Noah glances around. No one is watching except a single chunky gray squirrel, casing their drinks. This is New York City after all. And two teens making out barely registers.
Noah turns back to face Nellie. Her hair that smells like Creamsicles. Those wild gray eyes. He wipes a small smudge of eyeliner from below her lower lid with the edge of his thumb.
Her cheeks are pink. Her lips are the tiniest bit swollen.
“Can we do this again?” she whispers.
And he doesn’t know if she means now or later or the walk or the museum or the hangout or the make-out. But the answer to all of it isyes.
10NELLIETODAY
The transport Cara has booked is not your mama’s van. It is black. It is sleek. And it is idling with a purr in the dusty estate parking lot, bordered by herb gardens, as it awaits our arrival.
I am almost bolstered by the sight of John, my beloved driver from the aiport, who is apparently squiring us around today. He welcomes me at the door with a wink, a chilled bottle of water, and a capped smile.
