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Chapter Two
WE HAVE SO MUCH CAKE left,” Nora says, lifting a plastic fork to her mouth.
Small crumbs of white cake and green icing fall onto the table between us. Turns out, Ellen doesn’t really like sweets. She cites being a teenager for not liking flowers when I lament that I should have just brought those. But not liking cake? I don’t know what kind of devil she is, but I’ll gladly eat this for her.
Despite hating most things, she did enjoy our company. Though she tried to fight the smile on her face, she failed, and the three of us had a good time. Nora turned the shop’s OPEN sign to CLOSED, and we sang “Happy Birthday.” We discovered that I’m a terrible singer. Even without melody or candles, we made sure she knew we cared that it was her birthday.
Nora streamed pop radio on her phone, and Ellen talked to her more than she’s ever talked to me. Our makeshift party only lasted about half an hour. Ellen was getting anxious about the shop’s being closed, and I got the feeling she was tired of talking about herself. Which is too bad. I’ve often found that the people who don’t like to talk about themselves are the ones I want to talk to the most.
“More for us.” I grab another fork from the counter and dig into the corner of the cake. Nora’s sitting in the chair next to me with one knee propped up on the seat. The little pizza slices on her socks are equal parts quirky and adorable. I reach my hand out and poke at the top of her foot. “What’s with these?”
She licks her lips. “Life’s too short to wear boring socks.” She shrugs, bringing a forkful of cake to her lips.
I look down at my own socks, white with gray on the heels and toes. Yikes. These are boring. And tube socks. No one wears tube socks anymore.
“Is that your life motto?”
She nods. “One of them,” she says with her mouth full.
Icing is on the rim of her mouth, and I wish we were in a romantic-comedy movie so I could reach over and wipe it off with my finger. She would get all mushy and butterflies would swarm in both of our stomachs and she would lean into me.
“You have icing on your lips,” I say, doing the exact opposite of a romantic gesture.
She swipes at her mouth with her thumb, missing the spot. “You’re not going to wipe it off for me? It’s the perfect setup for a kiss in the movies.”
Her mind is in the same place as mine. I like the comfort of that, for some reason.
“I was just thinking that. If this were a movie, I would lean over and wipe it for you.” I smile.
Nora grins, icing still messy on her lips. “You would lick it off your finger, and I would watch your lips, the way they part.”
“I would look at you while I did it.”
“I would sigh as you licked your finger clean, never breaking eye contact.”
My stomach flutters. “You would have butterflies in your stomach.”
“The wild, angry kind that make me feel like I’m going crazy.” Nora’s eyes meet mine. She’s smiling, and she’s just so pretty.
“I would tell you that I missed a spot and lean over again. Your heart would be beating so fast.”
“So fast that you could hear it.”
I repeat her words, lost in them. “So fast that I could hear it. I would touch your cheek.”
Nora’s chest rises and falls slowly. “I would let you.”
