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“Oh, Elle. That man is down for you bad.”
“What? No.”
“Yes.” She nodded, vigorously.
I sighed and sat there, defeated, till I finally mumbled something and got up to trudge towards my room. I had things to work on, sure—but I couldn’t get him out of my mind.
And for some reason, I knew it needed to be me. That he wouldn’t push me, that I had to make the first move.
There were so many reasons I wanted this. Because I couldn’t help the way my heart fluttered when I saw him walk through the door—always wearing his sweater and button-up combo. I needed to just plunge into the icy waters. My heart had been broken in the past, sure, but this? This was friendship. And it wasn’t too forward to give him my number the next time I saw him, right? That wouldn’t be weird. It would be… normal.
For us to talk more—to really be friends.
Would it change everything?
But then I realized, who cares? I had never felt this way before, and all I knew was that I didn’t want this to end. He had said we were friends. And friends did swap phone number.
I tried to remember how everything started with Jake. But I had been young, ignorant, and naive back then. We had class together, friends in common, and when he asked me out one day, I had just said yes. And I fell into something with him that felt… comfortable. Until it didn’t, and I ran back to Portland with my tail between my legs.
But… It shouldn’t have been long enough for Matthew’s smile to affect me like this, I thought with a frown. For his conversations to have meant so much to me. I clutched the collar of my sweater and inhaled deeply, trying to bring myself back to my senses. Trying to reign in my heart, beating way faster than it should have been. Stressing about what I had just done, and how terribly this could go if I had read everything wrong.
~ ~ ~
It seemed like the one time I was actually desperate to run into Matthew, I hadn’t seen him around. And since the last week had been so swamped with classes, I hadn’t even been able to stop by his office to say hi.
And then, suddenly, it was Friday, and I was staring at my white board, where lunch with mom was written in big red letters. Oh, yeah. I tugged on a nice dress, already dreading the event. You see, I loved my mom. She was great—really. A huge support system in my life, especially considering it was just her. But still… she was constantly second-guessing my choices, and sometimes it just wore me down.
Because as much as she was glad I was back in Portland, she also didn’t understand why I hadn’t gotten married and settled down yet, and it wasn’t like I could explain to her that I wasn’t sure I was ready—wasn’t sure I would ever be ready, honestly—to date again after Jake so thoughtfully and thoroughly broke my heart. I had tried to put the jagged pieces of my heart back together as best I could, and I had come to accept that I didn’t want to be loved like that again. I didn’t want to be vulnerable enough to let someone have enough of me that I could feel that level of devastation ever again.
Yep. I stabbed my fork into the pile of noodles as I listened to my mom. “You know, Noelle, sweetie, you can always be a teacher—” she started to ramble. This again? I groaned. “What? I’ve always told you that you would make a good teacher.”
“Mom, I got a degree in English for a reason. I don’t want to teach; I’ve never wanted to teach. And I’m sorry that has always been your dream for me, but it isn’t mine, okay?” I frowned. And I definitely didn’t want to teach middle or high school. I resisted making a face.
Why did I agree to this, again? I was trying to wrack my brain to remember, but I had definietly been bamboozled into it. There was no sound reason that I would have agreed to a lunch date from hell with my mother if I was in my right mind.
See, here’s the thing. As I said, I loved her. I really did. She was a great mom growing up, and she cared about me, I knew she did. I’d never had to question that. And she went through hell raising me on her own, so sometimes I found myself forgiving her little transgressions. Like her insistence on knowing best what I wanted for my life.
“I’m sorry,” she said, directing my thoughts back to her. “I know. I just worry about you, you know?” My mother, Christina, frowned at me. “And ever since you came back from New York, it’s like… You won’t open up to me anymore. Are you still working on your book? How’s that going?”
I shrugged. How did I explain that between my job as hall director, all the other little things I juggled on campus and the classes I was taking for my masters, I hardly had time to do anything fun? To even breathe, let alone work on a book. Sure, there was a word document on my computer that I opened and worked on every so often, but I couldn’t have even told her when the last time I wrote 5 words on it was. “Honestly, it’s on pause right now. I haven’t had time, and I’ve been trying to focus all of my efforts on the new semester with grad school—it’s my last, you know?”
She nodded, sipping her wine glass as she took another bite of the salmon on her plate. “That makes sense. Are you enjoying your last few classes?”
I felt relieved. This line of questioning I could handle. “I really am,” I smiled. “It’s been… really good so far.” I trailed off. It was more than just a good semester or good classes. It was also… Him. And where did I start? I wasn’t going to share with my mom the little butterflies that I got when I saw him with her. Because she would take it the wrong way and wouldn’t understand. Honestly, I still wasn’t sure I even understood it. “Everything is really great. I’ve got Hazel still, and she’s awesome, and I feel like maybe things are finally looking up for me.” I continued babbling on about some of the things I was learning, but I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face.
And what if some of it was Matthew? I bit my lip as I thought about it. Sitting in his class had been more than just interesting. Did I know what was going on? Absolutely not, but it had made me realize how kind and genuine he was as a professor, even under the grumpy exterior he wore during class. And so what? Was there something wrong with that? Or how he had taken me home when I was drunk and then made sure I was feeling okay the next day?
“And did you meet someone, hm?” My mom cut into my thoughts.
“What?” I stammered, feeling like my tongue was caught in my throat.
“Noelle. I think I know my daughter enough to know what that blush on your cheeks means.” God damn—I needed to get these cheeks of mine under control. Was I that easy to read, like a book? It seemed like everyone in my life knew what I was thinking lately.
I held up my hand to my face, indeed finding my cheeks warm. Oh, God. I groaned. “You can’t be serious right now, Mom.” I wished I could bury myself in the pasta dish that I had ordered, instead of having to stare down at my mom and try to deny that I was thinking about him.
And suddenly, lunch just got a whole lot more fun. For someone. Just not for me.
“Well? Who is he? Is he nice? And attractive?” My mom was never one to beat around the bush.
