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“Not if I can help it.” The line shuffled forward, the last group stepping to Kara’s side of the counter to order, leaving me to lean forward and kiss Noel’s cheek, her chaotic red curls making my nose itch. “What can I get you, handsome?”
“A red eye would be great,” I said, leaning back and stripping the leather gloves from my hands and stuffing them in my coat pocket. Her skeptical brows winged up, and I shrugged, supplying, “I’ve got two more lectures and papers to grade before the festival tonight.”
“Mmmkay,” she said, punching the order into the POS. “You still coming to dinner?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I assured her as I handed over my credit card. My best friend—Rhyett’s younger brother, Jameson—had wasted no time winning over Noel, and the two of them played host to most of our gatherings. “Captain get off the water last night?”
“Yeah, he’s probably still huddled up by the fire while knocking out this week’s accounting.”
“Good deal.”
The bell rang behind me, and she jerked her head toward the end of the bar. Taking my cue, I scooted my way down to the drink drop-off as two giggling female forms scooted forward, dropping their hoods to reveal a couple of my sophomores. Big city professors likely had the luxury of avoiding their students far more than I ever could. They eyed me at the end of the counter before their giggles escalated, and I shifted nervously, their gazes on me while they exchanged muted whispers.
“Hi, Professor Allen,” the first said, nerves betraying her smile and putting a squeak in her voice. I tugged at my collar, giving a stiff wave back as the second echoed the greeting, smiling coyly as she tucked black hair behind her ear. Oh boy.
“Tara, Ciara,” I nodded curtly, rubbing a hand over the back of my neck as heat rushed to my face before scowling at Noel, her knowing grin taking way too much pleasure in my discomfort. I snatched my coffee cup from her freckled hand, glaring as she snickered, and abandoned my plan for a cozy coffee in, instead backing toward the front door.
“Sarah coming tonight?” Noel asked, louder than necessary in a not-so-subtle sign of solidarity.
“Yeah, I’ll pick her up after work.”
“See you then!”
Noel, at least, had the decency to extend an olive branch, even if she didn’t care for my plus one. The Rhodes siblings, however, all turned their noses up whenever Sarah was mentioned. My on again, off again girlfriend of the last decade had pretty much burned her bridge with them on breakup number three. Noel, mercifully, had missed that fiasco. With one last wave, I headed out into the cold.
With the tantalizing promise of laughter to look forward to, I walked the three blocks home from the university in a rush after work, opening the front door with all the tact of a linebacker. Finding the living room empty, when my girlfriend should have been yanking those sexy little boots into place, I hollered, “Sarah, babe, we’re gonna be late!”
Kicking off my shoes by the front mat, I shirked my jacket off in the next motion and set it over the back of the couch. The uncharacteristic warmth of the evening lingered on my grateful skin, even as I rounded the corner of our outdated little townhouse for the fridge. Dull seventies yellow and sinus-infection green had evidently been all the rage in Mistyvale during the nineties.
Noel was an amazing cook, naturally insisting on covering all the bases, except for wine, which she was wise enough to defer to me. I was opting for a steadfast red for the roast beef dinner and a chilled dessert wine to complement her cherry croissants. My feet halted halfway to the fridge when a sense of unease settled in my stomach.
“Sarah?” I called again, motions slowing to take in the furniture that was usually just-so, now sitting askew on the rug, and her sweater carelessly tossed on the floor. The first time Sarah and I dated, she’d been slightly chaotic, but when we got back together for another go of things, she’d gotten better about matching my love of all things orderly. It wasn’t like her to leave things haphazardly strewn about. “Babe?” It was the muffled sound upstairs that sent my pulse running. Like a cry or yelp. Mind whirring, I bolted up the staircase, images strobing against my eyes, varying from an ax murderer…to what my gut already knew to be the reality I’d find behind our bedroom door.
Bursting through, not sure what I was hoping to see beyond the threshold, I came face-to-face with a naked Sarah. Her eyes flew wide as some skinny fuck plowed into her from behind, his hand wrapped in her blonde strands of mussed hair. Bile rose in my throat as I turned, cursing as she shrieked and the man barked, “What the fuck!?”
It was going to be a long goddamn night.
Noel’s fair, freckled fingers hesitated as she went to set a croissant on my dinner plate later that night, her evaluative brown eyes surveying my frantic pacing, like a beast trapped in a cage. She bobbed her head before setting two croissants on her and Jameson’s plates and placing the entire platter piled with them on mine like a peace offering. Quiet and scowling, Jameson’s only sign of life was the rapid bounce of his leg, hand bracing his jaw, those signature Rhodes’ blue-gray eyes glaring at the table between us as I finished my explanation.
“I can’t fucking believe she’d do this. Fuck. Yes, I can. I knew—knew something was off these last weeks—but didn’t want to rock the damn boat by asking her about it.”
His gruff sigh was somewhere in the neighborhood of a bear chuffing. The man was my ride-or-die, but I monopolized our allotted number of vocalized thoughts, leaving Jameson with the scraps. “Sorry, man. Never cared for her.” Dark brown hair shifted under his hand as he yanked fingers through his loose curls in frustration.
“I know. That’s the shittiest part. You guys were right. You. Rhyett. Noel,” I said, nodding her direction as she grimaced, those brown irises heavy with what I could only describe as sympathy.
“Rhyett’s always right,” Jameson begrudgingly admitted. How the same parents had produced the sun beam and the terse bastard across from me, I would never understand. But I fucking loved him all the more for it. “He’s like El in that way.”
El. Elora. “Oh God, please don’t tell El,” I muttered, rubbing my temples as a dull ache pressed against the back of my eyes. Speaking of annoyingly upbeat siblings, their little sister was terrifying to even the best of us, her accomplishments enough to make a neurosurgeon grimace and hug the sharp corners of their framed degree just for reassurance. She’d no doubt have a damn field day with this, having loathed Sarah from the first go around. Just one more confirmation: she’d dodged a bullet with me all those years ago. Obviously, I still hadn’t figured out the whole keeping a woman part of the relationship description.
“You couldn’t have known,” Noel offered softly, snapping me back into the moment as she came back over with the pot of freshly brewed coffee in hand. None of us were rage drinkers, opting instead for figuring out a game plan together. She topped off both our mugs with a steaming dark roast before turning back for their kitchen counter, only for Jameson to snake an arm around her waist. His other hand liberated the coffee pot, setting it on a marble platter she’d had ready to receive the dinner spread prior to my raging arrival fucking up our entire plan. Falling into his lap with a little yelp, Noel quickly nuzzled into place, my eyes going foggy as he buried a kiss against the deep red curls that spilled down her shoulders, like he could get to her neck through the beautiful mess of a mane.
That.
I’d always wanted that, and never had a clue what it felt like or how on God’s green earth to get there. Honestly, I’d be wise to write off the idea of dating altogether at this point. Had I just become a confirmed bachelor?
“Who’s that obnoxious girl in Friends? The one that won’t leave Chandler alone?” Jameson asked nonchalantly, though it sounded as if his words had traveled down a very long tube to reach me. His girl burst out laughing, shaking her head as she snapped her hands over her mouth.
“Yes! Janice. Sarah is your Janice.”
