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“Does that happen a lot?”
“No, not really. Most nights, I’m here, but every once in a while, I need to let out some steam.”
She pauses, and I can see her getting uncomfortable.
Does she have issues with drinking or drinkers?
Noah looks every which way but at me before deciding on something and letting confidence take over her features. “What’s it like?” she asks. Her voice is quiet and inquisitive.
“What’s what like?”
“A hangover. What does it feel like?”
I sit on the floor, looking at this beautiful girl. She’s young. I checked out her date of birth when she filled out the employment forms, and she isn’t twenty-one. That usually isn’t a problem for teenagers who want to get drunk though. I had plenty before the legal drinking age. Sunday and I weren’t bad teenagers, but I think everyone we grew up with experimented at least a little.
“You’ve never had one? Ever?”
“I’ve never even had a drink before. So, no, I’ve never had a hangover.”
I’m seeing a unicorn. Noah is a real-life mythical creature, but it also clues me in that maybe she’s a lot more innocent than I thought. I always considered sneaking out to get drunk as a normal teenage rite of passage.
“Not even one? Never?” I try to keep any judgment out of my tone. I don’t want her to close up, which my gut tells me she would do if I pushed too hard. Something within me, something between us, tells me there is a lot more to her story than her lack of exposure to things like this, and I need to know more.
“Correct,” she confirms.
“How is it that everything about you … things that would scare me off about other women, only makes you all the more tempting?” I’m honestly baffled, but I don’t expect her to give me an answer.
“Tempting? What exactly do you mean by that?” She leans in closer.
“Don’t make me say it, Noah. I can’t. We can’t.” I look down, away from her, putting up a wall.
“Because of Sunday?”
On instinct, I release her from my touch.
Where did she get that idea?
“What makes you bring Sunday into this?”
“You two are close. I just assumed that maybe there was something between the two of you. Are you two … together?”
Sunday is my best friend. She’s more than that. She’s part of my family.
If I have anything to say about it, she’ll always be in my life.
“Don’t worry about Sunday. Has she made you feel uncomfortable?” I hope not. I have no idea how hard Sunday pumped Noah for information when I left them alone that first day.
“No, but—”
“It’s hell.” Like a dick, I cut her off. I don’t want to talk about my complicated relationship with Sunday. I want light and easy. I need it if I’m going to keep my word about getting to know Noah.
“What?” Her eyebrows draw down, and she gets a cute crinkle to her nose.
“A hangover. Your stomach riots, and your head pounds. The strength of the symptoms depends on how much you drank though.”
“Why drink then, if the morning after is so bad?” Reluctantly, she goes with the change of topic in our conversation.
“I don’t know. It’s fun, and the morning after isn’t always miserable. It’s only really bad when you don’t know your limits or you ignore them.”
