warp speed.
He gulped. “What’s this for?”
“For being such a good friend.”
He coughed. “You’re a cross to bear, but I endure it.”
She chuckled and pulled away, but not all the way. Her arms remained at his waist, her hands near his hips. He looked down just as she looked up. Her gaze drifted from his eyes to his mouth and lingered there. And there it was again. That look. Desire.
The ding of the elevator brought them apart. Silence was like a physical presence between them as they walked to the car. Neither spoke until Noah pulled out of the ramp.
“You hungry?” he asked.
“Are you?”
“I could eat.”
“Okay. Do you . . . Do you want to go somewhere or . . . ?”
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t care. We could go somewhere or go back to my house or whatever you want.”
Jesus. Their conversation couldn’t be more stilted and painful if they’d been trying. Noah dragged a hand across his beard. It was never like this between them, and he fucking hated it.
“How about this?” he said, forcing an easiness into his voice that he didn’t feel. “Let’s swing by the taco truck, take tacos back to your house, and start working on that LEGO set.”
She nodded, and her hands loosened their assault on each other. “Perfect.”
“Put some music on,” he said lightly.
Lexa plugged her iPhone into his car and swiped through her playlists until she found their favorite. Twenty minutes later, Noah pulled into a parking space in front of the taco truck.
“I can get this,” she said, reaching for her purse at the floor.
“My turn,” he said, opening his door. “You made me a cake for my birthday.”
He jogged over the curb and approached the counter. The guy who worked there knew Noah’s order by heart now and immediately started working on the vegetarian tacos and rice. Noah looked back over his shoulder just in time to see her bring her phone to her ear and start talking.
Five minutes later, he got back in the car.
“That smells awesome,” she breathed. “I’m hungrier than I thought.”
Noah waited until he pulled back onto the street. “Who was on the phone?”
“I called the transplant center.”
“And?”
“I can drive down tomorrow to meet with the coordinator and get tested.”
“On a Sunday?” His air vacated his lungs. “They’re not wasting any time, are they?”
If she caught the sarcasm in his tone, she ignored it. “My appointment is at one.”
“Then I guess you’d better get some food into you and some decent sleep tonight.”
He peeled his hand from the steering wheel and offered his pinkie. This was what she needed from him. Friendship. Nothing else. No matter how she looked at him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Alexis left for Huntsville just before eleven the next day after stopping at the café to make sure everyone was settled and able to handle things without her. Before pulling out into traffic, she hammered out a quick text to Noah.
On my way.
Call me if you need me.
She plugged in her music, turned it up loud, and tried to focus on driving, not the destination. Because she had no idea what awaited her. The transplant coordinator said the blood test itself was simple and wouldn’t take long. But she first wanted to meet Alexis to go over how the entire process worked.
Whenever anxiety gripped her, she used the calming technique her therapist had taught her. Focus only on what she needed to do now, not what she needed to do when she got there or tomorrow or the day after. She could only control this moment and her reaction to it.
Normally, it worked. But her mind wouldn’t cooperate this time, and not just because of where she was going and why. She’d almost kissed Noah yesterday. Again. And as hard as they’d both worked to pretend things were normal between them, things definitely were not.
Finally, her GPS directed her to take the next exit to the hospital and transplant center. She parked in a visitor lot, paused to check her reflection in the rearview mirror, and then got out. From the outside, the hospital looked more like a college campus than a renowned medical center. Inside the lobby, she stopped at the information desk for a visitor pass, and the receptionist—a volunteer who called her dear several times—directed her to a bank of elevators that would take her to the transplant floor.
She emerged into another lobby, this one sterile and staffed by nurses. They pointed to a waiting room and said someone