Page 54 of Backslide
“Except when you know the person can help you stop freaking the fuck out.”
“What if you know the person isderanged?”
He rubs a hand over his hair like he might make a wish—for me to stop being a pain in the ass. “Eleanor!”
“Aren’t you going to lecture me on how I should have known better?”
He shrugs. “I would, but it’s not that fun.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re kind of pathetic.”
My mouth drops open. “What the hell!”
“Just come with me.” He reaches out a hand like there’s a universe in which I would take it. He rolls his eyes, then motions for me to follow.
“Fine!” I relent. “But wherever we’re going better not be hot.”
Noah moves to touch my elbow and guide me forward, but I snarl, so he jumps back and gestures with his chin instead. He makes his way down a short block, past a cheerful children’s bookstore and a hippie candle shop with batiked muumuus in the window. The smell of fresh-baked cinnamon buns wafts from a small bakery with a chalkboard sign outside that reads “SPICE UP YOUR DAY!”
We round the corner and suddenly the street opens into a large town square. And looking at it, I feel like I can breathe again. The plaza is green and placid, and there are black metal benches shaded by trees—redwoods, cedars, spruces, and palms. In the center, there is a simple fountain by a small marigold garden. And just seeing the water bubble up and splash eases the tension in my chest a bit.
“Oh, thank God,” I murmur. Apparently out loud. Because Noah smiles at me, seemingly against his will.
We cross to the small park area and settle on a bench, blessedly out of the sun. The relief is palpable, despite the mixed company.
“What time is it?” I sigh.
He looks at his watch. “I think the van is picking us up in about thirty minutes to take us to the restaurant for pizza.”
Panic surges through me. “Thirty minutes?! Shit!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t let John see me like this!”
“Who the hell is John?” he snaps more sharply than is warranted. “Your fiancé? I thought he wasn’t coming? I feel like that wasn’t his name.”
“Fiancé?” Right. In theory I have a fiancé. “No.”
“There’s another guy you’re dating?”
“No!”
“Then who’s John?”
“The driver.”
“The driver… of the van?”
“Yes!”
Is it me or does Noah look relieved? And then amused.
“And John can’t see you high because…?”
“I don’t want him to be disappointed!”
