Page 38 of Chasing Infinity

Not long later, Noah enters the apartment carrying a large paper bag. I’m curled up on the couch under a fuzzy blanket, pausing my movie, when he walks in. I offer to help, but he declines immediately, setting the bag on the little table in front of the couch.

“What are you watching?” he asks, glancing at my paused movie.

I shrug sheepishly and tell him, “50 First Dates. I know it’s old, but it’s one of my favorites.”

“Is there much left?”

“I think I’m a little more than halfway, maybe.”

“That’s great. We can finish watching while we eat. I got Chinese food,” Noah says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I should’ve checked to see if you’re feeling up to that. I didn’t get anything too spicy, just some sesame beef and sweet and sour chicken and then rice.”

My stomach growls as he explains his haul, indicating that I’m more than up for it. I’ve been surviving off chicken noodle soup and toast for the last week, so any type of real food sounds fantastic to me. I nod my head, my stomach still rumbling, and sit back down on the couch, opening up the paper bag and pulling out the familiar white and red boxes.

“It’s probably not the best idea to eat this, but it smells so good,” I say.

Noah chuckles and takes a seat next to me. “Actually, I think this is just what you need to get back into the groove of things before going back to work tomorrow. You’ll need all the extra calories to jumpstart.”

I agree with him with a laugh and then start the movie again.

“Here, I got you these,” Noah says, digging around in the bag until he finds what he’s looking for, then offering it to me. I hold my hand out. Not sure what he’s giving me when I see a pair of chopsticks. I grin from ear to ear, my heart skipping a beat.

“You remembered!”

Noah rolls his eyes at me. “It’s not as novel as you think it is to use chopsticks to eat Chinese food. I’m just no good at it, so I always go with the good old-fashioned fork.”

I’m still grinning as I situate the chopsticks in my hand and start picking at the food. I’ve had Chinese takeout with Eli more times than I can count. Every time, without fail, he always forgot to get me chopsticks even though he knows I prefer to eat all Asian food with them. Yet here is Noah, remembering the little detail about me when we have Chinese for the first time in years.

The two of us dig into our food, not saying a word to each other. The movie continues, but I find it difficult to focus, knowing that Noah and I will have this dreaded conversation as soon as it’s over. I try my hardest to watch the unfolding of the love story on the TV. Still, all I can think about is what I’m going to say to him, making up fake responses to what he’ll lay on the table. It’s a pointless waste of energy, but the longer he sits next to me, not saying anything, the more nervous I get.

Noah gathers the containers and throws everything away when we finish our food. I try not to notice how he looks at me when he saunters back towards the couch, falling down next to me and landing a little too closely. The heat from his body radiates into mine, triggering the butterflies in my stomach to start flipping out again. I tighten my hands into fists, trying to simultaneously watch the rest of the move and get my head back in the game.

It’s no use, though. I’m glad I’ve seen this movie hundreds of times; otherwise, I wouldn’t have any clue how it ends. As soon as the end credits start to roll, I brace myself for the impending conversation we’re about to have. It takes a few moments, but I finally drag up the courage to start.

“Noah,” I say hesitantly as I turn to him. He’s reclined against the couch. His arms are draped across the back on either side, his knees splayed a little—the picture of ease. His silver blues watch me warily as I address him. Though he’s good at hiding it, I think he’s still as nervous as I am. “We should probably talk now.”

“There’s still a few minutes of credits rolling,” he teases, nodding his head towards the TV. Then, resignedly he sighs, sitting forward out of his relaxed position and turning off the TV. I’m facing him fully now, my legs crisscrossed in front of me, and I watch him expectantly. “Where do you want to start?” he asks.

I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe we should start with you cornering me in the backroom before I went on my date last week. Want to tell me what that was about? It was pretty aggressive.”

Noah’s got his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together. His eyes are trained on the ground as he collects his thoughts. When he finally looks at me, his eyes are steeled. “Alright then, I guess we’ll dive right in—I don’t like seeing you with Eli. He’s not right for you. In fact, in my opinion, he’s absolutelywrongfor you. Not that thats new information for you. You know I've never liked him for you.”

I frown at him. “That’s not fair.”

“Iknow. This is why I’m having such a difficult time with this, Parks. I know it’s unfair to leave and then come back and say things like this and expect you to rearrange your life for me. But that’s just how I’m feeling.” He runs his hand through his long hair, laughing humorlessly. “God, it’s just, even earlier today when I saw him kiss you, I thought I was going to see red. You deserve better than him.”

“Eli cares about me.”

“Oh, I bet he does. He’s probably a flawless boyfriend. Plays everything right out of the book.”

At this point, he stands up and starts pacing, agitated. I think about informing him that he’s wrong, but I don’t get the chance. Everything that he’s trying not to say is bottling up. I can see the pressure increasing tenfold with every second that passes. His hands run through his long hair, and he shakes his head before he can’t hold it anymore, and the words start spilling out.

“Good old Eli Montgomery, right? He probably says all the right things at the right times, brings you gifts, and tells you lovely things while you’re together, how you’re the stars that light up his sky when there’s no hope for anything else. Well, that’s great, except that’s not what you need, is it?” He stops and looks at me dead on, the severity of his gaze cutting me deep. “You need someone who will have real conversations with you. Put that gorgeous brain to work. Someone to challenge you, push you, infuriate you. Push you out of your comfort zone but at the same time offer you comfort. Someone who knows when to let you take control but isn’t afraid to take back the reigns when you need them to—so you don’t always have to carry the burden and responsibility on your shoulders alone. You need a partner who knows the ins and outs of what makes youyou.”

“Someone like you?” I interrupt breathlessly, pushing off the couch to stand right in front of him. My heart is threatening to go into cardiac arrest at his words, every single one striking my soul like a mallet hitting a bell.

He’s taken off guard and pauses abruptly, his eyes flaring with silver flames as his gaze devours me. He steps closer to me, our chests nearly touching now. Noah bends his neck until his forehead is pressed against mine. He hesitates for only another moment before exhaling and closing his eyes, taking me in. I follow his lead and let my eyelids fall shut, too, leaning into the weight of his head against mine. He’s breathing hard as if he’s trying to catch his breath, his body trembling.

“Noah—” I trail off when he shakes his head. I pull away from him and look at him, worried. He’s got his eyes closed, neck bent low.

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