“So,” I say, breaking the silence, “what exactly do you want me to do this weekend? I read the instruction sheet, but it’s light on direction.”
Noah straightens slightly in his seat, clearly relieved to be discussing logistics instead of feelings. “We’ve been dating a couple of months,” he says. “We met at a coffee shop—I spilled coffee on you, you thought it was cute instead of annoying, we started talking, and…” He shrugs. “That’s basically it.”
“So we’re a rom-com cliché,” I say.
“I don’t have any better ideas,” Noah admits, some of the energy draining out of him. “Does it sound fake?”
“Well,” I say, a little thrown by how genuinely worried he looks, “don’t you think Rick might remember me as your neighbor? It might be a little strange if you claim we met at a coffee shop.”
Noah goes red almost instantly. “Shit,” he mutters, like the flaw in his plan just punched him in the face. “You’re right. I didn’t even think about that. Shit. What do we do?”
“Let’s keep it simple,” I say, giving him a small smile. “I’m your neighbor, and we’ve known each other for two years. A couple of months ago, things changed and we started dating. The closer we stay to the truth, the less likely we are to mess it up.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.” He exhales, already halfway to spiraling. “Sorry. I’m really not good at lying, am I?”
I snort. “You’re okay.”
There’s a brief pause, and then I steer us back where we were.
“So we’re serious, then?”
Noah nods, shoulders tight. “Serious. Monogamous.” He swallows. “In love.”
“In love,” I repeat. “Wow. Okay.” I don’t think he realizes I’m messing with him. “I’ll try to sell it.”
His whole body seems to tense at that.
“You don’t have to—” Noah starts, then stops. He takes a breath. “You don’t have to kiss me or anything. Just laugh at my jokes. Talk to me. Pretend I’m funny and interesting.”
“Pretend?” A small smirk tugs at my mouth. “You think you’re not funny or interesting?”
Noah blinks at me, uncertain whether I’m serious or just teasing him. “I mean, I’m okay. Sometimes. Anyway, just don’t overdo it. If you act too impressed, it’ll look suspicious. We need believable.”
That does it. I bite down a smile and say, “I’ll aim for believable.”
We drive in silence for another stretch. The highway runs straight ahead, fields on either side shifting from early-spring yellow into deeper green. A hawk circles overhead, barely moving its wings.
“Listen,” Noah says, turning toward me. “When I told my mom I was bringing a boyfriend, she kind of lost it a little. So don’t be alarmed if she’s…a lot when we get there, okay?”
“Alright.”
“She’s probably going to ask you a million questions about your life and your job. And then she’ll tell you a million stories about me as a kid. So—sorry in advance.”
“Okay.”
He hesitates, then keeps going. “And she’ll hover. Like, make you eat even if you’re full. Tell you not to stand in the wind. Stuff like that.” He rushes on before I can respond. “My dad’s not like that, but he might be intense. He’ll ask a lot about your work. Not in a bad way—he’s just genuinely interested.”
I glance at him, putting the pieces together. “Am I the first boyfriend you’re bringing home?”
The color drains from his face for half a second, then comes back twice as strong, the pink spreading down his neck.
“Well, yeah. The only serious relationship I had was Rick, and I couldn’t tell them about him. So they’ve sort of assumed I’m…alone. My mom especially.” He huffs a quiet breath. “That’s why she might be extra.” He glances at me quickly. “You can tell the truth about your job and everything. Like you said—it’s probably easier not to lie about stuff we don’t have to.”
“Alright.” I nod. Then, because it feels only fair, I add, “Is there anything you’d like to know about me?”
Noah goes still for a second.
“Shit,” he says under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “I didn’t even—I’m sorry. Of course I should’ve asked you things too. It’s going to look really suspicious if I barely know anything about you.”
