If Only (26 page)

He knows better than to make light of my anxiety, lest I direct my crazy at him, but I can’t help it. The crazy, that is.

“If I don’t keep myself busy, I’m going to keep thinking about it, and if I think about it, I’m going to implode, and then
you
will have to clean more than the tabletops. So really, I’m doing you a favor.” Hmmm. I would go so far as to say I’ve made a logical argument.

“Jordan, listen.”

He sits me down in the booth I was about to clean and joins me. His green eyes bore into mine not with accusation or admonition, but with a gentle concern.

“You were going to have to do this sooner or later. Better to get it over with when you can have a shot in one hand and a pint to chase it if you need. It’s just a kiss.”

It’s not
just
a kiss.

Knowing I had to come in to work early, Oliver had the brilliant idea of having our
Much Ado
rehearsal here before things got busy. Then anyone who wants to stay and celebrate their love lives, or drink away the lack thereof, can stay.

“No one objected,” I tell Daniel. “Not when Oliver insisted that we rehearse the kiss. In an entire month, we’ve somehow managed not to practice that part, and now I get to do it with an audience.”

Daniel looks around. “Jordan, there’s no one really here yet.”

“You’re here. And trust me, Elaina will be here. Strangers would be easier, but you both know how I feel about Noah. That makes it all the more mortifying.”

He shakes his head as he crosses his arms. “Don’t be daft. We’re your friends. We don’t aid in mortification. We do quite the opposite, really.”

I try to force a smile because sweet Daniel means well, and I want him to know I appreciate his friendship. But there’s nothing he can say to make this any better.

“I’m sorry, Daniel. But where Noah and I are involved, nothing is
just
a kiss.”

He hands me back the rag, and I clean.

Oliver arrives by two forty-five, no doubt appeasing his ego by showing up first so he can take control. He spots me wiping down the tables, and I usher him to
the
booth.

“If it starts getting a little more hectic, this should shelter us from any unwanted noise.”

He appraises my seating selection before sitting down. I’m sure he’d love to veto it and choose another table so he can say he chose it, but he knows there’s no better table than this.

I excuse myself and head back behind the bar to dispose of my overused rag. Because she closed the bar last night, Elaina comes in later than us. I’d think it would suck to work on Valentine’s Day while dating, but Elaina’s perfectly happy to have Duncan meet her here later so they can snog their socks off across the bar. Basically, their usual Saturday night.

Her pace quickens as soon as she comes through the door. “Did I miss it? Did you kiss him yet?”

I don’t dignify her ridiculous enthusiasm. Instead I grab the tray of pints I’ve poured and head back to the table. Phillip and Emily are here. We’re missing one.

As soon as I pass out the drinks, Noah walks in. Immediately my heart sinks because the way he’s dressed indicates he’s ready for more than a read-through. He’s got plans tonight.

His dark jeans are snug enough on his thighs before relaxing the rest of the way to the ground. Instead of the fisherman’s sweater I always picture him in when I think of Noah in this place, he wears a black button-down fitted over his midsection and tucked into his jeans above a black leather belt. Other than New Year’s Eve, I’ve never seen him dressed like this. He’s a T-shirt, fleece, and jeans kind of guy, at least that’s how I’ve always thought of him, casual and laid back. When I see that despite his date-like attire he’s still wearing Chucks, I have to suppress the hint of a smile.

And yes, I have thought about him over the past six weeks. How can I not when I see him every other day, when I have to rehearse with him every Saturday? Despite the measured distance between us, we are too often in close physical proximity. It started out awkward, but habit breeds comfort, and things have been easier with us lately, in class at least. We still avoid each other in social situations and make concerted efforts not to leave class at the same time to walk back to Hillhead. That part is still hard.

“Hey,” I say. “You look nice.” Six weeks ago I would have teased him for dressing up. Then again, six weeks ago, he would have been dressing up for me. So instead, I infuse my tone with sincerity because, there’s no question. He looks good.

He smiles, but not with his eyes. “Thanks.”

As he sits, I hand him the second to last pint from the tray, the last one, of course, is for me.

Oliver raises a glass. “To Beatrice and Benedick!”

I’m about to drink to his cheesy toast but am interrupted by mild-mannered Emily.

“Hey,” she whines. “What about Hero and Claudio?

Oliver gives her the look that I love, the “Oh, you poor, poor thing” look that in a flash tells Emily she doesn’t know this scene at all.

“While I admit this scene gives us a lovely reunion between Claudio and Hero, the attention really belongs to Beatrice and Benedick—two characters who have forsworn love but loved each other all along despite themselves.
This
is the kiss that proves that.
This
is the kiss that practically ends the play.
This
is the kiss that shows how foolish it is to hold back anything when it comes to love!”

Emily’s mouth hangs slightly open, and Phillip stares, but they aren’t looking at Oliver. They are looking at me and Noah, and neither of us smiles.

“Shit, Oliver,” I finally say. “No pressure.”

God, if he only knew.

We start with a table read, during which I catch Elaina out of the corner of my eye. She’s on a step stool, a tote bag hanging over her forearm, fastening something to the ceiling above a table across the way. She repeats the action at each table until she gets to ours, subsequently halting our rehearsal. No one can to concentrate while she stands above us. With her black hair pulled back into a long, low ponytail, a lock of grown-out fringe keeps falling in her face as she tilts her head up to…holy shit. She’s hanging mistletoe.

The whole table looks at me because apparently I am in charge of the crazy Greek on the ladder.

“Elaina?”

She finishes and climbs down.

“Jordan.”

“What are you doing?”

She opens the tote bag and tilts it toward me so I can see all of the sprigs of the plant that, no doubt, will adorn the ceiling above every table.

“I am hanging the mistletoe.”

She is
not.

“Why are you hanging
thee meesle toe
?”

She glares at me before continuing, hating when I mock her accent.

“Because. It is Valentine’s Day. Doesn’t it make sense to encourage the snogging on this holiday?”

She cannot be serious.

“That’s a lovely idea,” Emily says dreamily, looking at Phillip. I
knew
it. Hero really is falling for Claudio. Sweet, shy Phillip doesn’t say anything, but a slow smile spreads across his face.

“Yes, it
is
lovely, but we’ve already got plenty of encouragement for kissing right here.” Oliver flourishes his script at Elaina, but she shrugs and moves on to the next table.

“Can we finish the table read? You do all realize that
this
is my break, right? And I’ve barely started working.” I’m getting impatient. Anxious and impatient. I want to get this over with and get back behind the bar where I can nurse a pint and not think about why Noah is dressed like he is, because it’s not for me.

A voice, attractively playful and, of course, Welsh, calls from behind the bar. “She’ll get another break! Don’t worry about it!”

Et tu, Daniel?
Looks like we have a bigger audience than I thought, and I guess Elaina has recruited a co-conspirator to try to fix an unfixable situation.

“Yes, yes,” Oliver assures me. “Let’s move on. I think we were right by that kiss of yours. Since Jordan seems to be short on time, why don’t the two of you stand up and give it a go? It’s about time we see what kind of chemistry you two can infuse into Beatrice and Benedick.”

I slide off the booth, following Oliver’s direction. Noah sits, his eyes on his script. And something clicks—or rather, cracks. I’ve been feeling guilty for what I said, about this year being full of expiration dates, about insinuating my feelings for him were anything less than they were. But
he
violated my privacy. I didn’t cheat on him, and I certainly don’t keep running back to an old boyfriend every time things get a little fucked up.
Not
sleeping with Griffin is proof of who I really am, but Noah read a few words on a page and assumed otherwise. Sleeping with Noah without
sleeping
with Noah proves he meant more to me than just having fun. I get his trust issues, and yes, maybe I should have told him about Griffin being here that night. I made a mistake, but I never did anything worthy of his lack of faith in me. So I let my hurt speak for me, wanting to hurt him, too. “It’s just a kiss, Noah. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He looks up at me, and I can’t tell whether he looks wounded or angry. He definitely isn’t smiling.

I don’t mean to sound harsh, but my mental rant seeps into my speech. I shut up and let Beatrice do the talking.

“I would not deny you, but by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption.”

He stares, his expression blank.

Say your line so we can get the first kiss over with.

Oliver, sitting on the end of the booth opposite me, is for once at a loss for words. Does he feel the tension? It’s Emily who reaches across Phillip to give Noah a little nudge, loudly whispering his line to him. “Peace! I will stop your mouth.”

Noah turns to Emily who shoos him from his seat with another hiss of a whisper. “Say your line!”

“Wait!” Oliver cries. “Wait! This is all wrong. I thought it would work, but even a great director has to admit his shortcomings. I don’t see anything between you two but empty space. Maybe I need to rework the casting.”

My breaths quicken. Angry at him or not, this is my only chance to kiss him again, to try to show him what he meant, what he still means.

“No, no,” I plead, my eyes locking with Noah’s. “We should be able to do this. Beatrice and Benedick hate each other almost till the end. We should at least be able to pull
that
off.”

He stands to face me, his script left on the table. “I don’t hate you, Jordan.” The ache in his voice tears at me. He’s so guarded, always so guarded. This is the first hint of pain I’ve heard from him in a while. He was quick to make up his mind about me that morning in January. Even without any open animosity, it’s been hard to believe he’s thought anything good of me since then. And while that hurts, it’s nothing compared to hearing that he hurts, too.

We’re close, too close. I can smell him, and without thinking about our audience, I close my eyes and inhale the spring. It’s only for a second, but it’s enough to remember what it was like, if only for a night, to be wrapped in that scent, to have it linger on my skin and my sheets the morning after.

“Peace.”

I open my eyes. It’s not Emily speaking, and Noah’s tone lacks the comedic urgency of Benedick’s. Something is there, though, in the sound of his one word, an urgency all its own. Though I want to exhale, I can’t.

He’s already leaning in when he finishes the line. “I will stop your mouth.”

His lips touch mine in a quick, gentle brush. He pulls back, but only enough so I see his dark lashes close once over his sapphire eyes as he lays his palms on each side of my face. That’s my only warning before his mouth is on mine again, and this time I taste cider, and the hint of mint, and Noah.

I drop my script and reach for him. His kisses beat in time with the rise and fall of his chest, and I’m kissing him back. Of course I’m kissing him back, my hands turning to fists as they grab at his shirt. The last six weeks vanish, and there is only him and me and our mouths. He pulls me in to him, forcing my hands to his neck to close the gap between us. One of his hands moves to the small of my back, and I let out a quiet moan as his skin brushes mine. I forget the hurt, forget he did not dress as he did for me. I forget we have an audience until I hear Emily gasp.

One tiny sound breaks the spell, and Noah pulls back, practically pushing me off him. His eyes are hard as he looks at Oliver.

“Did we pass the test?” His biting tone lingers, but he walks away.

“Yes,” Oliver answers to no one in particular, a glorious smile taking over his face. “I dare say you did.”

Still standing alone, I excuse myself.

“I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t leave. I can see the entrance from here. The L-shaped bar turns at the dance floor and then extends parallel to it. I find him around the corner, pacing.

“Noah.” I hesitate, afraid he’ll run off again. Instead he stops in front of me, his hands clasped behind his neck, his eyes a strained, glassy blue.

“I’m sorry, Jordan.” He shakes his head. “Shit. That shouldn’t have happened.”

“But it did happen,” I say. “Noah, why can’t we talk about this, about whatever it is that’s still between us?” I step closer to him. “You have to know I’m not that girl, the one you think you saw in the words on that page. You
know
that’s not me.”

His hands unclasp, one of them raking through his dark hair as his head keeps shaking.

“You’re not the girl who came here knowing that anything that happened was eventually going to end?” His bitterness throws me, especially after that kiss, but I remind myself he came here with it, to Aberdeen. There’s more to his issues than what happened between us. But I defend myself anyway.

“So what if I am? You’re going to fault me for being realistic? Shit, Noah. That’s all I’ve ever been. But you have these expectations that I somehow can’t meet. You have this idea of who I am just from reading a few words in a journal, which, by the way, was a total dick move on your part.” It sounds cold, but it’s true. The other truth, though, I can’t tell him. I came here with no expectations beyond having fun, but instead I fell for someone who was already taken, for whom I’m still falling, even when he pushes me away.