“WELCOME TO SHADOW HILLS BURGERS, WHAT CAN I GETCHA?!”
“Um hi,” I said back to the voice on the intercom, rubbing my now ringing ear. “I’ll take a cheeseburger with everything on it, extra pickles, fries, and a half strawberry, half chocolate milkshake. I will also take two double cheeseburgers with no onions, extra cheese, fries, and a vanilla milkshake.”
Our order was engrained in my mind; we were creatures of habit when it came to our burgers.
“ALL RIGHT HONEY, WILL THAT BE IT FOR YA?” the voice boomed again, but this time I was quick on my feet and blocked the eardrum assault by putting my hand in front of my ear.
“Yes, thank you.” I pulled the car forward, not awaiting instruction to do so. I knew the drill; this was a weekly ritual for the two of us. I stole a glance over at Noah and he was scowling at his phone, brows so furrowed that they were practically one long unibrow. I really wanted to know what was bothering him, but I had a feeling I wasn’t going to find out. Noah was usually an open book, but it seemed that this was a secret he wasn’t looking to share without a lot of persuasion.
“Seriously, are you okay, Noah?”
“I’m fine.” He shoved a $20 bill into my hand to cover the cost of our food.
I made no attempt to exchange pleasantries with the woman at the drive-through window as I handed her the money, took our change, and passed the food to Noah. Placing the milkshakes into the cupholder, I curtly offered the woman a “Thank you” before stepping on the gas and driving straight to Noah’s house.
I was annoyed and feeling left in the dark about what was going on inside Noah’s head. But you have a secret too, I reminded myself, my mind wandering back to my near kiss with Ryder in the woods.
As we pulled up to Noah’s ranch-style house, a sense of peace washed over me as I took “my spot” on the street. Noah’s house had always been a safe haven for me; a place where I could escape to at any time of day and just be myself. I loved my mom, but sometimes I felt like a guest in my own house—a feeling that I never had when I was at Noah’s. The Whitlock home was cozy and always smelled like freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. The moment you stepped through the threshold of their hunter green front door, you were immediately greeted by an antique wooden bench adorned with two throw pillows that Robin, Noah’s mom, switched out seasonally. What I loved most about their home is that no matter where you looked, I was present. The Whitlocks had always treated me like an extension of their family. Various photos of Noah and I were placed around the living room, my favorite sweater was still draped across the back of the kitchen chair, left there from two days ago. My black sequined slippers that Noah had bought for me this past Christmas sat under the entryway bench. This house was home to me in every sense of the word, and I absolutely loved to be there.
Throwing the car into park, I shifted my body so that I was staring directly at Noah, assessing him as he continued to stare at his phone. I huffed dramatically, trying to capture his attention, but right now I would probably have more luck catching the attention of a brick wall. I scooped up the bag of food and my milkshake, climbed out of the car, and slammed the door. I heard Noah slam his door behind me, and I rolled my eyes as I pushed open his front door and walked into the house. Not bothering to close the door behind me, I slid my feet into my slippers from under the bench, avoiding the urge to look at Noah as he walked in and slammed the front door behind him. It felt like we were in a fight, and I was growing increasingly irritated at his behavior. I continued to ignore him as I walked to the kitchen and set the bags of burgers down, laying down a couple of napkins before placing my burger and fries on them, before I ripped a big bite out of my burger and preemptively dipped a fry in my ketchup. I ate in silence, growing angrier as the time passed.
Noah finally made his way into the kitchen and sank onto the barstool next to where I stood. I studied him closely; he sure looked like my Noah, with his blue jeans that hung on his hips with just the right amount of sag, a blue and tan plaid flannel, cuffed at the arms and unbuttoned just enough to expose the wife-beater style tank top that was layered beneath it. His hair was a little messy, as always. The only notable difference with this version of Noah was the scowl on his face, his current icy demeanor, and him shutting me out.
“Noah, what’s going on? I’m seriously starting to worry.”
My blood began to boil as I continued to be ignored. Not pausing to consider my actions, I reached over, yanked the phone out of his hand, and threw it across the room.
After watching the phone land on the couch, he snapped out of his stupor and flew into a fit of rage. He stood and stomped into the living room to retrieve his phone before turning to me with malice in his eyes. I returned his icy glare.
“Seriously? Elle, what the fuck?”
“I’m sorry, Noah, but I’m tired of being ignored. What the hell is going on with you?”
“It’s nothing Elle, don’t worry about it.”
“You have to talk to me eventually, you know. You always feel better after you do,” I said matter-of-factly before shoving a fry into my mouth.
“I know,” he said. “And I will. Just not right now.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Everything is fine. Just trust me, okay?” Pulling his burger out of the grease-stained bag, he began wolfing it down. I watched him eat, wondering if I really knew my best friend as well as I thought I did. We were both keeping secrets, and we all know that secrets are the downfall of any relationship.