Page 8 of Red Zone Realizations
Nicole takes two wine glasses, the popcorn bowl, and the green leaf lettuce to the living room while I go to the built-in where I keep the guinea pigs in a huge cage. Dolly is a mix of white and yellow, whereas Reba is a black and red tortoiseshell color. They squeak happily when I undo the latch because they know exactly what time it is.
I hold them both against my chest and bring them to the couch where they have a designated cushion covered in an old bath towel. This is special forSurvivornights; they normally eat in their cage. I hated coming home to my empty apartment, but I didn’t have time to walk a dog. Guinea pigs are great because you don’t have to take them out to potty, their little noises add ambiance to any home, they’re very trusting once they know you, and they’re perfectly content to just sit and eat. Much like Nicole and me.
Sitting with my fur babies and my best friend, watching a lawyer choke down a fish eyeball on TV, I can’t help the worry in the back of my mind about my promise to Nicole. As much as I hate to admit it, she’s probably right. It’s time for me to get back out there.
It’s late when Nicole leaves and I finally crash into bed. I look at the new contact in my phone again. At the very least, I should let him know that I’m not hurt.
I click his name and open a message.
Hey, Noah, this is Audrey. I just wanted to text you to let you know that I’m fine. No worries!
But I have many worries. I worry that I’m permanently fucked up from my relationship with Hunter. I’m worried I’m unlovable because of my distaste for having kids. I’m worried that there’s no man out there who is good with living a life with just me, and I worry that I’m not enough to fill someone’s life without the happiness people say comes with having children. How could I be a stand-in for all of that when I’m just me?
Noah’s little dots appear immediately.
Noah
Hey! Happy to hear from you, but so sorry again about busting you in the face…
I stare at his words on my screen and think back to how safe I felt in his arms today. Like he was going to make sure everything was okay before letting me out of his sight. The concern on his face was obviously as painful for him as my bruised nose was for me. There was desperation in his voice, like he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if he couldn’t fix it for me. If there was any man in the world who would make my first time getting back out there comfortable, it would be Noah. And what kind of person would I be to not let him rid himself of this guilt?
It’s totally okay. Definitely not broken.
But I was wondering if dinner is still on the table? I kind of freaked out at the studio, but now that I think about it, it sounds fun.
I’m so glad you’re taking me up on that! I really feel like I owe you for this.
Not that that’s the only reason I want to go. I want to take you to dinner no matter what.
Fuck I’m screwing this up, aren’t I? Ignore me.
What day is best for you? This Friday is good for me, and I know just the place.
He’s a multi-texter. I like that.
Friday is good for me, just let me know where and when.
The Lush on San Felipe Street at seven.
Oh, so he’s that kind of guy. He just makes decisions and tells me when to be ready. I can be into that.
There. It’s done. No backing out now. Well, I could, but then I would feel like a dick. He’s given me no reason to believe that at the very least this will be a fun dinner between friends, and at its best it will be proof to myself that I’m not afraid to put myself out there again.
What’s that old saying? Something about well-behaved women rarely making history.
Guess it’s time for me to write my own history now.
Chapter Six
NOAH
I slide the sweaty Hurricanes athletic shirt over my head and throw it in the team hamper.
Team workouts went well today, but my ass has been thoroughly kicked. I flex my ankle, testing how it feels. It definitely has its strength back, thanks to months of balancing poses. The ability to stay on your feet, moving forward, is important for a tight end, and balance plays a key part in that.
I catch a flash of red in my peripheral vision as Mack approaches his locker. As the only redhead on the team, he’s hard to miss. “So, where are you taking her?” he asks.
“You know where,” I reply tersely. Everyone knows I have a preference. Pia is a family friend and is the head chef at The Lush. When she called me, terrified that the rapidly rising rent prices might put the restaurant out of business, I knew I had to step in—hell, Iwantedto step in. Buying the entire commercial strip was an investment, anyway.
