He stuffs his hands in his pockets, rocking on his feet contemplatively. “I haven’t had a good gyro in a long time.” I clap my hand on his shoulder. “If you haven’t tried their feta brined chicken, you have not had chicken.”
His face still looks full of concern when shrugs. I tip my head to the side, fully aware of Cade’s unhappy expression. “What?”
He glances at the students filling the auditorium, then down at his watch, which reads 5:58. “It disturbs me greatly that you don’t address him as Dr. Morton.” If he knew Eli the way I did, he’d be disturbed thatanyonecalls EliDr. Morton.
“Still thinking about that?" I smile. “Okay, around you, he’ll be Dr. Morton.”
Cade bobs his head with a sigh. “Souvla’s works.” And with that, he ducks inside, letting the door slowly rush closed behind him with a hollow thunk.
Back in our office, I settle into my seat, ignoring the unread emails and stacks of ungraded essays. Cade and I have gone out for food and drinks in groups, and a couple of times just us, too. But lately, we’ve found ourselves catching the other watching, alone more often, lingering a moment longer.
I don’t know what he’s thinking, because he keeps his walls married to the clouds, but I’m as close as I’ve ever been, and I won’t let go now.
I’m going to Cade’s soon, and even though I know nothing will happen,nothingis all I can seem to think about until his class is over.
CHAPTER
FIVE
CADE
“He wantedto come over last night, after my class. We’d kind of planned a last minute dinner.” I pull my hand down my face, wishing I could rip it off instead of just rub it. That’s how talking about this makes me feel—like I’d rather tear flesh from my bones than try to discuss myfeelingsabout anything other than English literature, and maybe the quality of wool. Nice frames, too. I could go on about that for a few hours.
But feelings? No thank you.
My sister sighs, sinking her fingertips into my shoulder. “This is good, Cade. Let us help you figure it out.” Next to my sister is her fiancee, Zennie, who tips her head to the side.
“Wait, so, you cancelled?” She asks, reaching for herglass of red wine. I’ve drank two glasses and I don’t even feel a thing because my stress is at an all-time high.
I answer with a nod. “I did but… only because I was exhausted after lecture and—” I shake my head, leaving out the part where I texted him before the lecture and asked him to come another day. I’d told him it was a review lecture that night and he wouldn’t get much from it, not ideal for peer reviews. I cancelled the moment we were apart, because the idea of it sounded too good. “It doesn't matter. Grown adults can cancel on grown adults. We all have lives. We understand.”
It bugs me that Kat and Zennie do not rush out there to agree with me.
“I’m telling you guys this because he asked if he could come to the wedding when I told him I’m not taking a date,” I explain, my skin growing heated just from playing it back in my mind. Noah’s charismatic and bold, his regular banter bordering on flirtatious in many ways. I shouldn’t torture myself by spending the entire night pulling every word apart in my mind, trying to see what he meant or why. He’s just Noah. Good times, good looking, charming, fun, Noah Ryan.
“You couldn’t get a date for one single night?” My sister tisks.
I glare. “I don’t want a date, for one night.” I continue to glare. “Noah suggested that I bring a colleague instead, and asked if he could join.”
Kat just blinks at me like I grew a third head. “Yeah butlike, you want him to go, obviously, or you wouldn’t be here asking us.”
Why must she point it out? I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, looping an arm of my glasses through the neck of my sweater. “Yes, I would like to have someone there I can talk to and hang out with that isn’t obsessed with catching a bouquet or sucking up to Dad.”
Zennie laughs. “That one always surprises me. No matter the age or gender, they always so shamelessly kiss his butt.”
I pluck a cashew from the bowl on the table, and toss it back. “So?” I cut a questioning glance to my sister.
“Bring him. I can’t wait to meet him.”
Relieved that she said yes and feeling exponentially guilty about cancelling via text message mid-class last night, I quickly get to my feet and pull their invitation off the fridge. I hold it out, snap a photo, and text it to him.
Since you didn’t get the chance to see this last night
Here’s the invitation
My phone is already returned to its spot in my back pocket when it vibrates, making my groin come alive. I take it back out, and find that Noah is somewhere within a fifteen mile radius of me, texting me.
Feeling better?
