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Fucking hell. “No, I’ll just take the bill.”
“Of course, I’ll go and get it for you now.”
I’m still trying to process what Sutton said about Savannah when the waiter returns. I go through the motions of paying the bill and dropping down a sizeable tip for occupying the table.
On autopilot, I stand from the table and wind my way through the restaurant to the exit. Rupert’s waiting for me as I push through the doors. We aren’t too far from the apartment, and the cool September evening air might help focus my confused thoughts. “I think I’m going to walk. Thanks for waiting though. Enjoy your evening, Rupert.”
He doesn’t question why my dinner’s finished early; he’s too good at his job. “Of course, sir. Have a good evening and enjoy your walk.”
There’s little chance of that. Not with a new weight settling on my chest. Despite what Sutton said about Savannah and I, nothing will ever happen between us.
TWENTY-ONE
Savannah
Music blares from the surround sound speakers as I shimmy my hips to the beat. I might be a bit too tipsy for cooking but I haven’t injured myself yet and my craving for homemade ramen got the better of me. I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t know how to cook many dishes, but this one is my specialty.
On the way back to the apartment from back to back dance and acting classes, I stopped at the store. It’s definitely a day of treats. I’ve missed going to classes and it’s really been showing in my techniques. I’m rustier than I’ve ever been before. Something needs to change because I can’t make Broadway my career if I’m only able to afford two of each of my classes a month.
Maybe I can ask Jack for a loan.
I dismiss the thought almost immediately. In all of my twenty-seven years of life, I have never had to borrow money to get by and I don’t plan on starting now. I’ll figure something out, I always do.
Sipping on my red wine, I twirl with my wooden spoon acting as a microphone while I sing along to an Aaliyah song.
It’s not the finest singing, and I’m certain that if my vocal coach could hear me now, she’d have a conniption. The thought has me bursting into a fit of giggles as I twirl around the kitchen, sipping on my wine and singing along to my favorite playlist.
Tonight is just what I needed. Comfort food, wine and being able to let my hair down. It’s been a long few weeks.
Sutton is away on a girls trip and Noah has a business dinner. Usually, that means he won’t be back until way past midnight. If we were both free when Noah worked late, Sutton and I would usually order in and do a pamper session.
Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen her in a while.
I’m sure she’s just busy with work.
It should only be a few more weeks before I can move out. I’m so close to having a deposit and first month's rent for my own place, I can practically feel the freedom that will come with it. Maybe I can even start dating again. The thought has a nervous shiver running down my spine.
I am not ready for that just yet.
My timer goes off and I walk back to the stove to remove the eggs from the boiling water. Gently, I plop them into the bowl of ice cold water sitting on the counter next to the stove.
My hips move to the beat of the song playing through the surround sound speakers as I stir and taste my ramen. It’s ready. Grabbing a bowl, I pour it in and then place it on the kitchen island. Unable to resist, I scoop out a spoonful of the liquid, the taste of the salty broth on my tongue making me moan.
“Do you always dance around half naked when nobody is home?”
Spinning on my heel, my hand rests on my chest as I come face to face with Noah.What’s he doing back so soon?
Cheese and crackers.I knew I should have dressed properly. This really is a facepalm moment. And I had time while the ramen was cooking. Stepping forward, I make sure that my near naked bottom half is fully covered by the island. “Goodness. You scared me. You gotta quit sneakin’ up on me.”
I wait for him to say something, resisting the urge to fidget under his assessing gaze. He doesn’t speak, and if he wasn’t blinking I’d think he was frozen. No, this is just Noah. He’s a man of few words, which works fine for me.
“What are you doing?” he asks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black slacks.
I look at the bowl of ramen noodles in front of me that are slowly going cold. My stomach gurgles loudly in the quiet. Why is he here? “I was making dinner.”
With an air of boredom to his tone, Noah replies, “Naked?”
Rolling my eyes—because I’m not even naked—I heave out a heavy sigh, his questioning irritating me.I just want to eat my food. Is that too much to ask?
