Page 24 of Lift Me Up

He’s right, it could be fun. But what kind of fun will it be? I haven’t dated in over a year, haven’t been with anyone in just as long, and how do I know if he’s asking me as a friend, as a not-friend, as a colleague, as… a date? He hasn’t spelled it out, and I’m not going to clarify, because in general my answer to any of those options is⁠—

“Okay.” I agree with a smile.

“Really? This is going to be great,” He chatters on about how we’ll have the best time, and I can’t argue that we won’t because I know we will.

I nod to everything he’s saying, but I don’t hear him speaking over the racing beat of my heart thumping in my ears. I feel the pink in my cheeks as I realize what I’ve just agreed myself to. So much for suffering in silence and getting over it. The moment that ‘okay’ came out of my mouth, I sealed my own fate.

Totally. Not. Over. Him.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

GEORGIE

Idon’t know why I thought I could do this. I definitely can’t do this. I feel an anxious adrenaline spike the moment my eyes snap open to find that it’s Saturday. That mixed with Franny’s exuberance to help me prepare for what I’ve labelled as a not-a-date, we’re all on a rollercoaster that’s stuck in an infinite loop de loop.

“I can’t do this.” I groan into my hands.

“You’ll be fine. Here. Did he say there was a dress code?” Franny says from behind me.

“Casual? We’re literally playing with puppies and walking them along the rescue’s trails, I think.”

“Then you’ll want the miracle leggings, right?” I see a mirrored reflection of Franny throwing the leggings onto my bed from where she’s raiding my closet in my bedroom. I splash my face with water again and then shut off the water, resting on the sink. I see my own reflection staring back and swallow hard.

“Why do I feel like this?” I mutter to myself.

“Because you like him,” she sing-songs, drawing out the ‘i’ in like, sounding like a little kid teasing her brother about a crush.

“Okay but like… do I really like him?” I ask her, which stops her from rifling through my shirt drawer to turn to me. She sits back on her haunches, her face a look of confusion.

“We are talking about the same Noah from the elevator, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then where is the confusion?”

I sigh, falling back on my bed to stare at my ceiling, “I don’t know. I just—I don’t know.”

“Well clearly you know something. You’re feeling some type of way about it,” Franny says with a chuckle, sitting back against the end of my bed, waiting for me to explain.

“I just—I don’t want to get my hopes up or read into it.”

“Gonna need more clarification than that.”

I tell her how I was feeling the other day, the day Noah asked me to go on this not-a-date. How I second guessed everything. Every smile, every touch of his hand intentionally on mine. Every moment in that elevator, wondering if he would be the last person I talked to before dying, and every moment wondering if he stayed because he felt bad or because he genuinely wanted to.

Usually, I have more confidence than this. I am take-charge fake-it-till-you-make-it Georgie. But it seems like everything I experience with Noah is far from conventional.

When I’m finished ranting, my head is hanging upside down off the bed beside her, Franny rises onto her knees from her spot on the floor, holding my face in her palms and says, “George, come on. This man, regardless of your first encounter in that elevator, likes you. How could he not? You’re gorgeous and funny and sarcastic and⁠—”

“A pain in your ass,” I remind her, voice muffled by the way she squishes me.

“And a huge pain in my ass,” she echoes, shaking my head and making me laugh. “But you’re Georgia, and if he can’t see how great you are then he’s not the one.”

“Wait a minute, who said he’s the one?”

“I know these things. I’d put money on it. Hey, look, it’s your favourite shirt!” Franny holds up the French cat shirt and I go along with it, but her words ring out like an alarm in my brain that won’t quiet.

I arrive at the arranged meeting spot, only a few minutes earlier than Noah does. The Pawsitive Passion Project is only a hop, skip and a jump away from where we work, so we decided to meet up outside the bright red door frame of Get Crafty Co. The weather is slightly less sunny and a tad windier than I had hoped, but I throw my hair back into a ponytail while waiting for Noah to show up. I don’t panic, not one bit. The minute he rounds the corner I am relieved to see he’s dressed casually in black jogging pants that are form fitted to his toned legs with white stripes up the sides, and a grey pullover sweater on top of what I think is a V-neck tee shirt like the one he wore the other day.