Page 37 of Chasing Infinity

I shift uncomfortably. “Noah’s staying in my apartment, Eli. If I was that contagious, he would’ve already gotten it.”

“Yeah, I guess. I still think letting him stay with you was a bad idea. I don’t trust him one bit.”

I contain my desire to roll my eyes at him. “Well, there haven’t been any issues so far.”

“Yeah, I guess. You’re feeling better, though, now, right? Like back to normal?”

“Mostly,” I reply with a shrug. “I think it might take a few days to—oomph.”

Eli cuts my sentence off by grabbing me around the waist and pulling me into him before claiming my lips with his in an aggressive kiss. As we’re lip-locked, I stare wide-eyed at him, my brain slow on the uptake to what’s happening right now. I push him away from me and wipe at my mouth, frowning at him.

“What was that?”

“I just haven’t seen you in so long. I needed to kiss you,” Eli says sheepishly, his cheeks turning pink as if that will excuse his brash behavior.

“You could’ve been a little gentler about it. And as I was saying before you interrupted me, Eli is that I’m feelingmostlybetter. But, I still have a few lingering symptoms, so I hope you didn’t just infect yourself,” I retort.

Eli shrugs his shoulders and gives me a grin. “It would have been worth it. Do you think you’ll be up for date night this week?”

I sigh and look down at my hands. I know I need to talk to Eli about our situation. I don’t love the dynamic anymore, and it’s not fair to him to pretend that I do. “Yeah, I thought we could get together at the end of the week. There are a few things I wanted to talk to you about.”

He nods, “Okay, I’ll text you later, and we can work out the details.” Eli steps forward and presses a kiss on my cheek. “I really am glad you’re feeling better, Addie. I missed seeing you around here.”

I give him an appreciative smile back. He’s acting like I was gone for months rather than a week. But as much as Eli grinds my gears sometimes, he is one of my oldest and dearest friends. We’ve been through thick and thin together, and I hope he’ll be understanding about what I need to tell him. He says his goodbyes and offers me a wave before heading back to the Market where he works with his dad. I reciprocate the motion and turn around, walking up the few stairs back into the diner.

The door jingles as I walk in, and I’m immediately barraged with a blank look from Noah, standing behind the counter.

“That was cute,” Noah remarks when I step through the door. He’s staring at me, a plate in his hand that he’s drying with a rag. I raise an eyebrow at him, challenging him to continue. “The little reunion you had out front. You’d almost think you were on your death bed the way Monty just mauled you.”

I roll my eyes.These men. “He was just glad I’m feeling better.”

“I am also glad you’re feeling better, Parks. That doesn’t mean I’m going to try to eat you the first chance I get.”

My eyes flare at his unintentional innuendo, my stomach coiling tight and thighs clenching at the thought. Noah has the decency to look a little embarrassed, but he just clears his throat, moving on without addressing the blunder.

“Anyway, now that you’re almost fully recovered, I was wondering if we could talk?” he asks hesitantly. “You know that conversation we’ve been putting off?”

Instead of arousal being the culprit of my impending stomach ache, now anxiety takes root. How did I get to this point in my life where all I seem to do is schedule important conversations? Things shouldn’t be this complicated. “Of course. This evening after you get finished helping out here? We could talk over dinner somewhere.”

He presses his lips into a thin line before saying, “Could we just stay in? I think I’d like to duke this out just the two of us without an audience.”

I nod, trying to ignore the rising anxiety taking over, “Sure.”

“Great, I’ll bring up some food once I’m done here,” he says, his eyes falling away from my face and looking anywhere but at me.

It takes a moment, but I realize Noah appears as nervous as I feel. Suddenly I’m not sure that talking is the best thing we can do. Noah and I have fallen into a kind of understanding. Do we really want to stir the pot?

There are a lot of words left unsaid between the two of us, and I don’t know which direction this conversation will go. It’s not like any more damage could be done, but it’s strange seeing Noah look uncomfortable. I always remembered him being the stronghold during challenging situations. Maybe he’s lost his edge.

I shake my head right after that thought comes across. There’s no way Noah’s lost his edge. He’s Noah—one of the strongest men I know who exercises control like it’s a daily workout. And despite us being apart for the last eight or nine years, I know he hasn’t changed fundamentally. At least notthatmuch.

When Noah’s done with the plates, he gets me a white ceramic mug of hot water and places it in front of me. I take a seat at the bar dunking the teabag he chose in and out of the water. He and I don’t exchange any more words. I just nod to him, grateful for my tea, and he gives me a sideways grin before walking to the back and disappearing from sight.

Grace wanders out from the office and spots me at the bar, immediately coming over. She starts rattling about certain things that I need to approve tomorrow and fills me in on more of the nitty-gritty details of the last few days. Overall I’m pleased to hear that everything has gone smoothly, and I’m grateful I have such good partners.

After returning to the apartment, I spend about an hour cleaning and sanitizing. I toss my bedsheets and comforter into the wash and wipe down all the countertops with disinfectant. I’m thankful Noah was here while I was sick, but my apartment clearly displayed that fact. He’s not the tidiest housemate. Once everything’s sparkling and spotless, I settle myself on the couch.

Checking the time on my phone, I determine I have a little over an hour before Noah will finish up downstairs. I scroll through one of my streaming services and pick a movie to watch in the meantime.

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