AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Worst of all, I can’t stop thinking about Noah and the hot ball ofwantthat’s burning a hole through my stomach. It’s not logical, it’s not anything I should allow . . . it justis.
Maybe if we spend a bit more time together, I’ll pop the fantasy my brain is constructing without my permission, and finally focus on the tournament. That’s the theory I’m testing, anyway.
But I have to admit, it’s . . .nice. Nice to talk to someone who doesn’t know who I am, or what I’ve done, or how much money I have in the bank.
The place Noah knows is a rooftop bar two blocks away from where we met. English ivy curls around the exposed iron beams that frame the bar, giving it an industrial, slightly apocalyptic ‘the plants have taken over’ feel. Giant palms and elephant ears are spaced along the walls, shading the low-lying tables from the evening sun. A cool mist filters down from the sprinklers that line the rafters.
We order—an IPA for Noah and a Coke for me—and find a seat.
‘Cheers,’ Noah says, raising his beer glass. I tap the edge of my glass to his, making sure our eyes meet, before taking a sip of Coke.
‘How was work?’ Noah asks. I like the way he talks aboutwork, like it’s just another day at the office and not one of the biggest slams of my career.
‘I start tomorrow.’ I pause before adding, ‘I’m nervous that I won’t be able to do a good job. That I’ll . . . fail.’
‘They wouldn’t have had you come over if they didn’t think you could do the job, would they?’ Noah reassures me with a dimpled smile. ‘I’m sure you’ll do fine.’
‘I hope so.’ That’s not how this works, but I’m not going to correct him. It’s freeing to discuss tennis so openly, and there’s something about Noah that makes me want to talk about myself, if it’ll mean he tells me about himself in return. ‘But I worry people have put their faith in me, and I won’t be able to deliver what they want.’
Noah takes a sip of his beer. ‘If you tried your best, then they gotta accept that and move on. I know that sounds stupid and clichéd, but shit happens.’
‘Shit happens,’ I repeat in agreement. ‘And your job? Your boss is . . .’
Noah’s expression darkens and he fidgets with the coaster beneath his beer. ‘He crossed the line when he pushed you and I’m sorry about that. I’ve got a new job in the pipeline but I love that bar. It killed me when Mark bought it.’
There’s something Noah’s not saying, and I want to tease it out. ‘What would you do with the bar if you could?’
Noah gives me a look that says,How much time do you have?
‘Tell me,’ I prompt him.
He huffs out a laugh, and the end of his fringe flicks up. ‘I’d revamp it into a jazz bar. Bring it back to its roots, you know? Revarnish the floors, get the piano tuned, serve decent cocktails, and get rid of those bloody awful TVs. We’d have live music every night. There wouldn’t be a place like it in all of Melbourne, and there’d be people queuing out the door to get in.’
Passion dances through his words. It’s beautiful to hear him speak about the bar with so much enthusiasm. Hot, even.
‘But that’s a pipe dream,’ Noah says over the lip of his beer glass and his ambition deflates like a balloon. ‘I could never afford it.’
‘Is that your dream?’ I ask. ‘To open a bar?’
He presses his lips into a long, thin line and shakes his head. ‘I dunno. I don’t really have any dreams. Right now, I’m taking it one day at a time.’
‘That is untrue. You just described a dream.’
‘I described afantasy.Not the same thing.’ Sensing I’m not going to let it go, Noah turns the conversation back on me. ‘What’s your dream?’
I lick my lips, tasting the zing of lime from my Coke, and do my best not to squirm under his sudden interrogation. ‘Recently, one of my dreams was to ski down a very hard track in the French Alps—I’m still not quite ready to take it on, but maybe next season.’
Noah considers my reply for a moment. ‘I thought dreams had to be . . . big. Life-changing, you know?’
‘Small dreams lead to big dreams.’
‘Guess my current dream is to get a new job, then.’ He drums his fingers on the table as if considering my words. ‘What are you doing tomorrow night?’ I must look particularly startled because he adds, ‘You deserve to be shown the city by a local, you know? And I know all the best bits.’
Excitement blooms inside me. I’ve never reallyseenMelbourne, but a voice that sounds a lot like Victor’s tells me this is a risk. People are dangerous and have different ways of getting what they want. But if Noah had wanted to hurt me, something tells me he would have done so already.
Orhe’s running a complicated and dastardly take-down plan that requires him to get close to me.
He smiles, and his dimple appears again. A sweet little pucker. I don’t think he’s got a dastardly plan, but at the same time . . . I could be down for something dastardly.
