to navigate present Chloe and Noah.
The question is, is that a good or a bad thing?
Pulling my hand back, I interlace my fingers in front of my body to keep them from touching him again. “Sorry.”
“No problem.” He crosses his arms over his chest, accentuating those fine muscles, and I pinch my lips together.
Will this attraction to him be a problem? Because holy hell, he's still doing it for me.
If the sudden excited chatter behind us is anything to go by, my senior friends approve very much of Noah. Or maybe they'd like their piece. Who knows with these ladies?
"I was going to tell you. That we’re neighbors, I mean." His gaze roams over my face, one corner of his mouth twitching. "Eventually."
"Eventually, huh?"
"When I found out, I didn't particularly like you."
Copying his stance, I also fold my arms over my chest. I can be like this too. Staring him down like it's no one's business. Well, I’m still staring up at him, but who cares about specifics?
His chin lifts in a small nod. "So, wanna carpool to your mom’s later, neighbor?"
I narrow my eyes at him. "Fine."
Then, I spin around as quickly as I can before he can see the corners of my mouth lift.
When I walk past gaping Agnes and Bessie, I wink at them. "Enjoy the show, ladies."
They mutter something I can't make out as I disappear into my house. I have to shower and a lunch carpool to get ready for.
“Thanks so much for lunch, Mom. It was delicious, as always.” I give my mom a hug before stepping back.
“Yes, Mrs. Williams. Thanks so much for the invitation. It was as good as ever.”
My mom waves both of us off as she opens the door. “Thank you, guys, for spending some time with me.”
Even though she smiles, her words still tighten my chest. I know she’s “doing okay” as she always likes to tell me, but sometimes I wonder if she lies, or rather, how much she lies.
I know from my own experience how often we tell others we’re okay even when we’re not. My mom isn’t any different.
Losing my dad was tough for both of us, even though like I told Noah at the hospital, we knew it was coming. That allowed us to prepare ourselves mentally, at least somewhat. Yet it also meant that our grieving process started a lot earlier than normal.
Grieving someone while they’re still alive is a distinct and bizarre mind process that screwed with my brain more than once.
How are you supposed to let go of someone when they’re right in front of you? When it’s impossible to erase them from your memory—or at least suppress them until you feel like you can breathe again? When your mind’s hard drive wants to pull up all of their memories, constantly, at the most inconvenient times, therefore dissolving you into a living crying machine.
I reach out and squeeze her. “Bye, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you, honey. And thanks for coming today, Noah. It was wonderful to see you.”
“The pleasure was all mine.”
They share a smile, like so many times during our visit.
Lunch was good. Eerily normal.
The conversation flowed easily, mostly, while Mom was getting the CliffsNotes on Noah’s last decade. The three Olympic Games he’s attended, what medals he won, how his sister and parents are doing. All totally ordinary details, although I was sad to hear about Daisy’s divorce.
I ate up every single word. Storing it in the back of my mind like it was the most important information, and I’m not going to think about the reason behind it.
“Back home for you?” Noah’s shoulder lightly brushes mine as we walk down the narrow walkway to his car.
When we get there, I shrug. “Yeah. I don’t really have anything planned for the rest of the day.”
His hand plays with the car keys as he looks at me. His head cocked, his eyes slightly narrowed as his gaze roams over my face.
Does he like what he sees?
No, don’t think about that.
We’re barely friends.
I chuckle. “What are you thinking about so hard?”
“If I should go to the movies or not.”
“Sunday movies, huh?”
He bites his lip and nods. “Yeah. Just like we—”
Just like we . . . used to do. Crap.
And why the hell does he need to bite his lip? Screw him and being so damn attractive.
My body loves him, heating up in all the right places, and I’m not sure how to feel about that. Of course, he’s hot, but it’s