Out of the Blackness (20 page)

“What are you doing?” I snap, struggling to secure the towel around my waist.

Sam jumps and looks at me guiltily. “Just looking for something nice for you to wear. When’s the last time you updated your wardrobe?”

I frown at him in confusion. “I can dress myself, you know. Besides what difference does it make? We’re going to a movie. It’ll be dark and no one’s gonna care anyway.”

“Dinner first, remember? C’mon, champ, dress up for me. When’s the last time you did that just for fun?” He resumes pawing through my clothes.

“When I was two. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just want my favorite people to look nice and feel good about themselves tonight, that’s—ah, here we go.” He holds up a bright blue button down he’d gotten me for Christmas last year. Inwardly I cringe but paste on a half-smile. I’ve never worn that shirt outside the house. It’s far too bright and attention-seeking for my liking.

“Okay, fine,” I say, knowing I’ll need time to prepare myself for all the unwanted stares and remarks I’ll be getting. “Can I get dressed in peace now?”

“Sure thing.” Sam studies the shirt for another moment before draping it carefully over the bed. “Wear your black jeans with that. You’ll look amazing.”

“Jeans?” I question in surprise. “I thought I was supposed to dress up.”

“How many times have you worn those jeans, Aves?”

I shrug. “I dunno. Two or three times.”

“Exactly. They’re still new. Good enough.” He stops to ruffle my wet hair on his way out the door. “You need a haircut. Get dressed.” He snatches my towel before I can stop him. Laughing, he throws it back at me, where it lands on my head.

***

Kira and I are laughing at some stupid joke of Sam’s as we walk into the restaurant. It’s Sam’s favorite steakhouse so I know dinner will be delicious and, for once, something I didn’t cook. And then I notice Kira walk right into Noah's open arms. He looks over her head at me and winks.

“What are you doing here?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Sam’s hand lands on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “We invited Noah.”

I turn and look up at him as it all falls into place, the dressing up, the insistence that I come. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He gives me that look that means he knows I know the answer to a very simple question. “Would you have come?”

I see Noah and Kira involved in a conversation but Noah's concerned hazel gaze is still on me. I turn back to Sam. “I don’t know, but I should have been given the choice.” I frown at him. “Sam, Noah and I are never going to be more than friends, so if that’s what you’re aiming for, forget it.”

Sam holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, hey, no ulterior motives on my part, kiddo. We just thought the four of us could have a nice dinner and enjoy a movie together. I know you sometimes feel like a third wheel, so now we have a nice, balanced four.”

I sigh and feel myself relax a bit. Without the extra pressure of Sam and Kira trying to create a love spark, I know I’ll be able to enjoy the evening. It’ll be just like lunch at work, only at night, in a nice restaurant, with Sam and Kira watching, and with Noah in yet another turtleneck. Heaven help me.

The smiling hostess shows us to our table, thankfully not a booth, and the two big men follow in the small wake left by the petite Kira and the even shorter me. I feel outmaneuvered and undersized. At the table, the men quickly move to put Kira’s back to the door with me opposite her, Sam to my right, Noah to my left, and a garishly decorated half-wall to my back. I know Sam, being the cop he is, usually likes to face the door or the larger area of the dining room so he can surreptitiously watch the goings-on around him. More than once over the years, he’s hustled me quickly out of a place when he’s seen suspicious activity, usually suspected drug trades in bathrooms or when he’s expected violence to break out. In his current seat, Sam’s back is to only two booths and the corner where the restrooms are discreetly tucked away. It means traffic will pass behind him, but I know he’ll be alert enough to know exactly who or what is coming his direction. I also know he’s deliberately given up to me the seat he’d prefer, so that I am bracketed on each side by his and Noah's tall, muscular masses. I have without question the safest seat in the house, with Kira’s being a close second.

As our server comes to deposit glasses of ice water before each of us and hand out menus, I smile my silent thanks to Sam who winks in response. A slight sadness passes through me, but I quickly shake it off. Yes, I’ll miss the effortless way Sam takes care of me, even in this seemingly safe situation, but that emotion is for later.

I listen to the three of them discuss the merits of various cuts of meat as I peruse the menu, looking for something Avery-sized to eat without resorting to the hated children’s menu. I’m not exceptionally hungry and steakhouse portions are notoriously too much for me. Shortly after Sam had rescued me from the group home, he brought me here. Because I’d been unsure of the cuts of meat and ignorant to the size of portions here, I’d let Sam order for me. While he’d polished off almost everything and even ordered an ice cream dessert, I’d taken the remains of my dinner home and had two more meals out of it.

I tune back into the conversation just in time to hear Noah say, “Really? That’s great. Congratulations, little one.”

I flush hard at the use of his nickname for me in front of Sam and Kira and then harder when I realize I have no idea what he’s talking about. As is becoming his habit more and more lately, Noah seems to read my mind.

“Sam just told me Walter offered you the bookkeeping position when Brian leaves next month. That’s a really exciting opportunity.”

His praise lights my cheeks again and I look at my lap to hide my embarrassment. “Thanks,” I mumble.

Much to my surprise, Noah's index finger slides under my chin and raises my face until I look him in the eyes. “Hey, don’t be shy,” he says softly, that finger on my skin still drawing all my attention. Unable to maintain the intense eye contact, my gaze drops to his lips and then jump back to his eyes, because no matter how discomfiting it is to look into those hazel pools, watching the man’s lips move is far, far worse. “We’re very proud of you.”

His easy praise warms me as much as the heat from his skin and I smile tremulously and nod, breaking contact with his finger. “I know. Thank you,” I offer softly. “I don’t think I’ll take it, but it was nice of Walter to ask anyway.”

Noah smiles, obviously pleased about something. “You should give it some serious thought before you turn him down. I think you’d be terrific in the role. Talk to Kendall about it.”

Our server returns with drinks—a Cosmo for Kira, Crown and Coke for Noah, and iced tea for Sam and me since he has to drive later and I’m just not fond of alcohol. As he distributes the drinks and takes orders around the table, I can’t help but notice he’s flirting with Noah. I feel my eyes narrow in irritation as I take a good look at him for the first time. I have to admit, he’s not bad looking. Medium height and build, more jock than bookworm probably, he has a classically handsome face and a pleasant smile he’s using to try to charm Noah. Even with all that going for him, the word I’d use for him is average. He’s certainly out of my league, but he’s nowhere near Noah's. No, the guy Noah ends up with needs to stand out in a crowd as much as Noah does. He needs to be vibrant and dynamic and have a wicked sense of humor, because there’s very little more beautiful than Noah laughing. This guy, he’s vanilla bean ice cream, maybe Neapolitan with his clothes off, but Noah deserves Baked Alaska.

I’m frozen yogurt, a pale imitation of the real thing, but really, that’s okay. As much as I’ve started to yearn for more from Noah, I know it’s not possible. No matter how many times Kendall makes me say it, I know I’m not capable of being loved in the same way others are. I’ve never been bothered by it before now. But now…now, Noah makes me wish I could be more worthy. It’s something else I’ll have to learn to live with.

Sam nudges me with his knee and I check back in. “Kaleb’s up at the bar. I’m going to go say hi.”

“Me, too,” Noah says, rising from the table.

Sam leans over to press a kiss to Kira’s lips before getting up. It’s something he always does, but this time it breaks my heart a little.

“Avery.” I hear my name as almost a low growl in my ear. I turn my head and look up to find Noah's face just inches from mine. Before I can think to move away, he moves in, sliding his mouth over mine once, twice. He draws back, licks those incredible lips of his and winks. “Win,” he whispers, breaking into a radiant grin.

As he and Sam move away, I notice Sam slap Noah on the back and bend his head to say something to him quietly. My gaze slides to Kira, who sits there staring back at me, the fingers at her lips unable to hide her smile. I try to focus, to breathe, to say something, but all I can do is replay the moment in my mind. The moment Noah Yates kissed me.

I meet Kira’s gaze finally and she erupts into laugher. “Yes, it really happened. Noah just kissed you right in front of Sam and everybody.”

I nod, dumbfounded, and look down at my shaking hands.
My first kiss
, I think, bringing my trembling fingers up to my tingling, smiling lips.

***

By the time Sam and Noah return from no doubt giving Kaleb a hard time, I’m almost calm. Almost. My old friend panic never had a chance to freak me out, clobbered over the head as it was by excitement and surprise and an overwhelming sense of glee that Noah would not only want to but actually would kiss me. I fear I’m on the verge of hysterical giggles.

“Kaleb says hello. He’s meeting a new kart distributor or he’d come over,” Sam says as he sits.

Noah resumes his place to my left and I feel my cheeks glowing with heat. Airliners could use my face as altitude beacons, although that would be disastrous for everyone. I’m overcome by a shyness laced, perversely, with a streak of rebellion. I risk a glance at the first man to ever kiss me. The open affection in his winking gaze shoots unfamiliar desire through me. I shiver at the force of it, hoping for anything else to capture everyone’s attention.

Noah smiles at me and turns to Kira. “Your brother said Kyle’s seeing somebody?” His knee brushes mine and I know he’s read my mind again. He’s diverting attention away from me.

She laughs. “Oh, he’s seeing someone alright. Hillary Redman, of all people. You remember her, don’t you?”

Noah visibly winces. “I’m not likely to forget her. She chased me relentlessly through three years of high school. I even talked to my dad about transferring.”

Everybody laughs, but I’m intrigued by this new facet of Noah's personality. I’ve never seen him anything but controlled and confident. Somehow it makes me feel better to know that even Noah had trouble with high school, if only because of the incessant advances of some teenage trollop.

“You wouldn’t recognize her now,” Kira says. “She’s pulled herself together, calmed down. She’s a nurse now. That’s how Kyle met her again. He almost sliced off his thumb doing something stupid to his own kart. Hillary tended to his wounds and it was something at first sight. I don’t think Kyle’s ready to call it love after three weeks, but whatever it is, it’s hot and heavy.”

Noah nods. “I’m glad she got herself together.” He laughs. “She sure scared the heck out of me. I think the time she tried to kiss me by my locker sophomore year was the instant I figured out all those weird feelings I’d been having for Kaleb meant I was gay. Maybe I should thank her.”

My heart leaps to my throat. Kaleb. Noah has feelings for Kaleb? Of course he does. Kaleb’s his match in every way. Except, what about Josh?

Kira and Sam laugh. “Probably not a good idea, bro.”

“Yeah,” Kira adds. “I can’t think of any woman who would appreciate a guy telling her she made him realize he was gay. That’s not something that would make her feel sexy, for sure!”

Our flirtatious waiter arrives with our food and I surprise myself by wanting to growl at him when he puts a hand on Noah's shoulder as he places his plate before him. It all happens in an instant, I see server boy’s hand on Noah's shoulder, I stifle the growl and I feel Noah's knee brush against mine under the table. My eyes cut to his. I should know by now: the man misses nothing. Even with the waiter still moving around him, Noah's amused gaze is focused solely on me. I flush for the seven hundredth time of the evening and turn my attention firmly to my own food. I can’t help the small victory smile that tugs at my lips. Waiter boy touches Noah and Noah still has his eyes on me. That is not a development I would ever have expected, but it feels good.

***

The movie can’t hold my interest. Between the lethargy brought on from a stomach full of succulent steak, the darkness of the theater and the safety of being sandwiched between the two big men, I’m slowly giving in to the lull of sleep. The third time my head pops up when I wake, Noah takes pity on me. He wraps his arm loosely around my shoulder and pulls me to him. I glance up at him and relax at the sight of his gentle smile.

“Lean against me and go to sleep if you want. It’s okay,” he whispers.

I hesitate. It’s one thing to hold his hand in the break room or Kaleb’s front yard. It’s something else entirely to essentially cuddle up to the man in a public theater. I look over at Sam to see him smile at me and nod, Kira similarly wrapped up under his left arm.

Even with Sam’s apparent blessing and my newfound comfort with Noah's touch, the little voice in my head screams at me to do anything but what Noah suggests. I shake my head at him. “I can’t.”

He nods and offers me a lopsided smile. “You can, you know. You’re perfectly safe with me. But I won’t push. We do this at your speed.” His hand lifts from my shoulder to muss my hair before falling once again on the back of my seat.

I lean forward, elbows on knees, chin in hands, determined to stay awake and maybe make sense of this movie by the time it’s over. But try as I might, I can’t concentrate on the storyline. As compelling as the shield-throwing superhero might be, he pales in comparison to that last sentence of Noah's. “We do this at your speed.” Just what is
this
and what is my speed?