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them, they always exist.”
Nora leans away, resting her back on the chair. “The words only exist until you don’t mean them anymore.”
I study her, and I’m cautious with my response: “I promise not to say things that I don’t mean.”
My hand reaches for hers, but she pulls away.
She hesitates, then says, “And I promise not to say things I’ll want to erase.”
Chapter Eleven
NORA GESTURES TO THE BUTTER and the carton of eggs she’s placed on the countertop. “Do you want to help me make the cupcakes?”
“If by ‘help’ you mean ‘emotionally support you through your baking process,’ then, yes, I would be happy to help.”
She’s amused by my answer, and I love the way her soft laughter fills my small kitchen. I’m no help in the kitchen—my mom can vouch for that. Nora stands on her toes to grab more ingredients from the cabinets. I begin to wonder why she put all the groceries away if she knew she was going to use them. Women are weird.
“Let’s play my game again,” Nora suggests.
I go and stand next to her. Her hands are busy measuring white powder in a cup. Flour, maybe?
The fact that she wants to play her truth game again means she’s willing to share more truths. This makes me happy. I’ve never felt so desperate for information about someone in my life. She says so little, yet I feel so much for her. How is it possible? She makes me question everything I thought I knew about relationships. With Dakota, everything was pretty simple. It took months, maybe even years, for me to realize that what I felt for Dakota was more than friendship. Dakota confessed her feelings for me first, which made it easier to share mine with her.
“Let’s play my game instead.” I’m not exactly sure what my game is.
Nora turns to me and licks her lips. It’s like she knows how sexy she is and she uses that knowledge to torture me. This woman is going to make me crazier than I already feel.
“My game . . .” I search through the pages of my cluttered brain. “My game is that I get to ask you three questions. You have to answer at least two and can pass on one. Then it’s your turn and I do the same.”
Nora raises an eyebrow and leans against the counter. “And what’s the prize for your game?”
I look at her and hope that my excitement doesn’t show through my words. “The truth, just like yours.”
She nods and stares at me, taking me in. “You didn’t change.” She points to my coffee-stained T-shirt.
I look down and wonder why I didn’t change when I got home. I had time. I lay on my couch for almost three hours. I definitely could have changed.
Wait . . .I look at her and shake my head. “No distractions.” I take a step toward her. I know her tactics, and this time I’m not going to let her distract me. “Are you scared to play a silly little game with me?” I lower my voice and notice the way her neck moves when she swallows.
She has a faint cluster of freckles on her chest, climbing up the base of her neck just above the collar of her oversized shirt. I follow the curve of her neck up to her face. Her eyes are on mine, and this time I’m not looking away first. I want to be in control of this game.
“Nora.” I take one more step closer to her. Electricity hums through me, straightening my spine, steadying my voice. “Are you?”
She swallows again. Nora’s eyes are wide, and her hands are behind her, gripping the countertop. Her heart is pounding. I swear I can hear the blood rushing through it from here. I reach out. My fingers graze the skin of her shoulder, and I trace a line down her chest, across where her heart lies and back up to her neck. She’s breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling under my touch. My heart is racing, just like hers. I wonder if she can feel my pulse through my fingers.
I close the rest of the space between us, and Nora’s body leans into mine. She’s so close. Her eyes never leave mine, and I want to kiss her for the rest of my life.
Nora blinks, and my heart stops. Did I say that out loud? Please, please tell me that I didn’t actually say those words.
