Present Perfect (11 page)

I hung out in the journalism classroom for an hour before heading home. My hope was that Noah had already left school. I felt horrible running away from him like I did, especially since he had been so wonderful and sweet. He caught me off guard. I don’t do well on the fly, not when it comes to important things. I just needed some time to clear my head and collect my thoughts.

Brenda, a senior student reporter, was nice enough to give me a ride home. I entered my house taking in the aroma of my mom’s five star spaghetti sauce. Tossing my backpack on the kitchen counter, I found Mom hard at work frosting a chocolate cake.

“Hey. Mom,” I said as I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. I walked over to where she was and leaned back against the counter. “What ‘cha doing?”

“Well, sweetie, I’m spackling the walls,” she said, throwing a quick smirk my way.

“People often ask me where I get my smart-assness from,” I said.

“Do you let them know it’s from your father’s side of the family? You know they’re all afflicted.”

I noticed the table was set for six. There were only three of us in the house now that Emily was off at college.

“Why’s the table set for six?”

“The Stewarts are having dinner with us tonight,” she answered.

“Why?” The word felt thick in my throat.

“Because they have to eat, sweetie.”

She handed me the chocolate covered spatula and moved the cake over to the table.

“All of them?” I asked, my mouth full of frosting.

“Last time I checked, they all ate food.”

She was moving around the kitchen at warp speed, getting things ready for our dinner guests. She was a great mom, really, especially when she made extra frosting because she knew how much I loved it. However, there were those times, like right now, that it felt as if she and the universe were plotting against me.

As I sucked every last drop of frosting off the spatula, I could feel my nerves already starting to overtake my body at just the thought of seeing Noah later. I tossed the spatula in the sink, grabbed my things off the counter, and headed to my room. I heard my mom say, “Dinner will be in about two hours,” just before I shut my bedroom door and tried to figure out how I was going to get through this dinner.

I had too much nervous energy, so I went for a quick bike ride. I just rode in my neighborhood, completely avoiding Noah’s street. Usually cycling cleared my head, helped me focus, and come up with answers to whatever problem I might be dealing with at the moment. Today I had so many thoughts and feelings running through me that I couldn’t get a grasp on any of them.

When I got home, I showered and changed into my gray and white striped tank dress. I toweled dried my hair some and then let it air dry. I was sitting at my desk working on Noah’s article that was due by the end of the week. I figured I would stay in my room until I was summoned to dinner. I had been working for about thirty minutes when there was a knock on my door.

“Yeah?” I asked.

The door opened slightly. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The butterflies that were whirling around in my stomach and the goose bumps across my skin told me who stood in my doorway.

Noah poked his head in. “Your mom wanted me to tell you dinner is in twenty.”

“Thanks.”

He stood in the doorway for a minute before stepping completely inside my room, closing the door behind him. He walked over to me, placed his hands on the back of my chair as he looked over my shoulder, and asked, “What are you working on?”

“Your article,” I said, tilting my head back and looking straight up at him.

“Make me look good.”

“There’s no other way for you to look.”

Where the hell did that come from, Amanda Marie Kelly?

When he’s this close to me, I get flustered, and I can’t always control what comes out of my mouth.

Smiling at me, Noah crossed the room and sat on the end of my bed, leaning back on his arms. I turned my chair to face him. I knew he wanted to talk. I still didn’t know what to say to him. My feelings were completely confusing to me. I needed him in my life. I knew I wasn’t good enough for him, but I couldn’t stand the thought of another girl having his attention. The pull I felt towards him kept getting stronger and with what he said to me earlier today, I wasn’t sure if I could control these feelings much longer without acting on them. But, I knew acting on them would be the worst thing for our friendship. For now, I figured I would just wait to see if he brought it up. I would just have to wing it.

“Tweet, what was the deal today?”

“What deal are you referring to?”

“Don’t do that. Now’s not the time to play dumb.”

“You seem to be under the impression that I
play
dumb.”

“Why’d you run away from me today?”

“I really had to leave.”

I was starting to feel anxious and when I feel anxious, I have to move. I walked over to my dresser and fumbled around until I found my brush. I pushed the bristles forcefully through my hair before piling it on top of my head, and pinning it securely. I could see in the mirror, Noah watching my every move.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because we we’re having guests for dinner.” I was trying to keep things light and breezy. By the look on his face I could tell Noah wasn’t in the mood for light and breezy.

Siting up straight he began to shake his head. Huffing in frustration, he said, “Dammit Tweet, would you stop being such a smartass for one minute.” I turned to face him. “You do this every time there’s something serious to talk about.”

“Do what?”

“Make jokes and then run away.” He kept his voice low, but he was fuming.

He ran both his hands over his face a couple of times while waiting on my response.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Please talk to me.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“Then I’ll start,” his voice was soft as he continued. He stood and walked slowly towards me. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever noticed and the last girl I’ll
ever
notice. My first kiss was the greatest first kiss in the history of first kisses because it was with you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I took a step back, bumping into the dresser. He was standing right in front of me, his light blue eyes holding me captive. He placed his hands on the dresser, on either side of my hips, and leaned in close. My breathing accelerated. I felt his lips lightly brush across my temple. The shivers he caused were off the charts. His lips moved down to my ear, skimming lightly across my skin like a feather. The feel of his warm breath on my neck caused my head to spin. I had to lean back more on the dresser to support myself. Once his lips reached my ear, I heard in a whispered tone, “I want you to be more than my best friend. I want you to be my girlfriend. What do you want, Tweet?”

I knew this would happen. I’m weak. I snapped. I couldn’t take it any longer, the months of dreaming about him day and night, the constant butterflies in my stomach caused by him. He was so close. His lips left a trail of heat wherever they touched, his words made me melt, his eyes where that beautiful shade of blue, and he smelled like sweet fresh oranges.

I had reached my breaking point when I breathlessly whispered, “I want you.”

Noah pulled away slightly and tilted his head. As his lips moved in closer, my breathing became more erratic, and my heart was pounding against my chest wall. The new sensation between my legs was driving me insane.

His gaze traveled up and down my face, landing on my eyes. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered.

My eyes automatically fluttered closed. I felt the slightest touch of his lips on mine. My mind was whirling around as my body responded to him. Suddenly, a loud knock reverberated around the room startling us both. Noah jumped back, turning away from me. The quick movement caused me to fall forward slightly. We heard my dad yell, “Dinner!”

Noah glanced at me over his shoulder, a look of terror flashed across his face.

“Don’t worry. He won’t come in,” I said.

My dad was famous for the knock and walk. He implemented it the day he came in the front door to find Professor Tampon, aka my mother, giving a 12-year-old Emily and two of her friends a lecture on the proper use of feminine hygiene products, with visual aids.

Steadying myself, I ran my hands down my dress, smoothing it out. I looked over at Noah. He still wasn’t facing me. My eyes started at his broad shoulders and then traveled down his muscular back, to his hips, where his hands rested. His biceps strained slightly against the material of his shirt. I shook my head trying to clear it of thoughts of Noah’s body.

I took one more quick look of his fantastic back side before clearing my throat, and asking, “Noah, are you coming?”

His chin was tucked into his chest as he held up his index finger, indicating he needed a few minutes before he would be able to join us. I felt it was best to leave him alone, so I went to dinner.

We were all sitting around the table eating by the time Noah joined us. He sat in the only empty seat left which happened to be next to me. Dad and Mr. Stewart talked about work while Mom and Mrs. Stewart shared the neighborhood gossip. I was trying to recover from the intense moment in my room earlier. I would have been able to do that if Noah hadn’t been sitting right next to me. That was bad enough, but he kept finding subtle ways of touching me. What happened in my room was a mistake, even though it didn’t go very far, it went far enough. I had to be strong and put a stop to things happening between us.

Noah put his arm around the back of my chair and reached across me for some bread, which brought his face so close to mine his lips were almost touching my cheek.

Keeping my voice low, I said, “I know what you’re doing.”

“I do too, I really like garlic bread.”

“I could have passed it to you if you had asked.”

“Yeah, I know, but my way I get to look down your dress.” My eyes shot immediately to his. “Oh, by the way, your bra selection tonight…Excellent.”

I slapped my hand to my chest trying to close the gap he had been peering down.

“Please tell me your panties match,” he whispered, and then leaned back slightly, glancing down in the direction of my panties. When I looked at him, I was met with a wink and a smirk before he shoved a big piece of garlic bread in his mouth.

“Noah, congratulations,” my dad said.

Just then I felt a hand on my knee and fingers creeping under the hem of my dress. My breath hitched and my eyes darted over to Noah. I’d be completely pissed at him if his hand didn’t feel so incredible on my naked leg.

“Thank you, sir.”

How he could remain so calm, cool, and collected in front of our parents while his hand rubbed over my knee was beyond me.

“It’s pretty rare that a sophomore gets asked to join the varsity team. We’re proud of you.” My dad always thought of Noah like a son.

“His mom and I are extremely proud of him. He’s a chip off the old block,” Mr. Stewart added.

The dads laughed as if the comment was hilarious. Noah smiled at his dad while his hand began to move up my thigh. I slapped it away and inadvertently hit the table with a loud thud, causing it to shake.

“Amanda, are you okay?” Mom asked.

‘Yes. I’m fine.” Noah snorted as he tried to contain a laugh. “I was swatting a fly away.”

My mom looked at me, slightly annoyed, but maintained her cheery voice, and said, “That’s ridiculous. We don’t have flies in this house.”

“My bad,” I said.

Noah’s hand landed back on my knee. He squeezed slightly, causing a loud gasp to escape me. All four parental heads turned to look in my direction.

“Um… Mom would you please pass me the…um…”

Noah’s hand was relentless. He would squeeze my knee then rub the inside of my thigh. It was impossible for me to think or form a coherent sentence.

“The stuff in the bottle, that you…um…pour on…um…lettuce?” My pitch grew higher and higher with each word.

“You mean
salad dressing
?” Mom said, sarcasm flowing from her words like a torrential rain. I nodded. “You already have some on your salad.”

“I need more. Please give me more.”

She looked at me like I didn’t belong to her before passing me the dressing.

“How’s Emily?” Mrs. Stewart asked while I doused my salad.

A prideful smile appeared across my mom’s face. “She’s wonderful. She’s loving college.”

“That’s fantastic,” Mrs. Stewart said.

“In fact, she joined the debate team.
She’s
an
extremely
articulate young woman,” Mom said as she glanced in my direction. If she had any clue what was taking place under her dinner table, she might cut me some slack.

I was so out of sorts, I dropped my fork just before loading it up with salad. “I’ll get it, Tweet.”

Noah’s hand disappeared from my leg. I took the opportunity to take a drink of water trying to calm down. Noah scooted his chair back and then bent down to grab the fork.

“Dead horse!” Dad announced while holding up the empty wine bottle.