Lorenzo clearly didn’t read the room before delivering his invitation. The tension between Noah and me is palpable. If I stuck my tongue out, the air would taste bitter.
There’s no time for me to freak out though. I need to take stock of the situation, prepare, and execute. I have very few options. I can’t just get up and leave. I have a full plate of food in front of me I haven’t touched yet. I hang on to the small chance that Noah might decline Lorenzo’s invitation, but that hope goes up in flames as soon as Noah finishes loading up his tray and heads our way. He plunks his food down beside Ashley on the opposite side of the table from me, and I take a small victory in that at least.
We’re as far apart as we can be, which is par for the course for us.
Everyone greets him cheerfully, except me. I make sure my mouth is stuffed with salad.
In fact, I go right in for another bite before I’ve even fully swallowed the first.
I can’t be asked to speak if I’m constantly eating. So what if I choke a little and need someone to perform the Heimlich? I have a few spare ribs.
Everyone starts to recap their day. Ashley and Gabriella go on about the farmer’s market and then ask the guys about soccer.
“The kids could barely keep up with Noah.” Lorenzo laughs.
“Are you that good?” Ashley asks, curious.
I stab, stab, stab my lettuce, only stopping when I realize I’ve drawn a few curious stares. I let up a little, then when I can’t withstand it another second longer, I peer up at Noah from beneath my lashes.
He shakes his head, skirting around Ashley’s question. “I’ve just had a lot of practice.”
“He’s being modest,” Lorenzo insists. “The kids were really in awe. We’ll have to convince you to play again next week if you’re up for it.”
Noah’s freshly showered. His hair is slightly damp and doing my favorite thing where it curls up at the ends. It’s not long enough to form a ringlet, but it wants to so bad. He picked up more sun at soccer. His skin is getting tanner by the day. He was made for Italian summers. He should be on a yacht with an heiress. Meanwhile, I’m not allowed to go back out into the sun without a hat and SPF 100 coverage, minimum.
Worried he’ll catch me staring, I force myself to look back down at my food. The conversation has shifted and my silence must be getting a little awkward at this point because Lorenzo tries to draw me in directly.
“Audrey, I meant to thank you earlier for hanging back at the school. Did you find anything to distract yourself with?”
My mind goes blank because of course I can’t tell him the truth of what I was doing.
“Uhh…”
Don’t say you cried!
For the love of GOD, think of something else!
I remember the art I looked at just as Lorenzo’s attention is suddenly diverted by something across the room. “Oh! They just put out the dessert. It’s that bread pudding all the kids snatched up the other day.”
He’s already pushing up and out of his chair. He’s forgotten I exist.
Gabriella shoots to her feet too. “Oh, let’s go. Quick, Ashley.”
She tugs her arm and just like that, the three of them vanish in a poof, leaving me alone at the table with Noah.
It’s dramatically quiet. It’s like someone dialed the volume of the room down to zero but Noah and I have been mic’d up. His fork scrapes against his plate. My glass of water clinks against the table. I swear if I tried, I could hear my stomach churning my food.
I’m so hyperaware of everything it’s like life’s been put in slow motion. What is taking them so long? Get your stupid pudding and come back here.
“So are we going to pretend we don’t know each other?” Noah suddenly asks.
I can read Noah’s moods like an old weather-beaten farmer can detect rain. Looks like it’s coming on, boys. His tone (lighthearted), his delivery (pithy, eager)—he’s not wanting to continue our argument; he’s trying to draw me into banter. It’s his version of an apology and likely the only one either of us will deliver.
I look up and study him like I haven’t seen his face in years.
“Of course I know you.” I snap like I’m trying to draw his name out of my brain’s Rolodex. “Nigel something, right?”
I can see the relief in the subtle sag of his shoulders, the sly smile as he forks another bite of his food into his mouth.
“It felt weird not talking to you today,” I admit. Then, because that almost sounds too desperate, I tack on, “You missed a lot. Lorenzo and Gabriella are dating now, I think. They seemed to really hit it off last night.”
They’re still over at the dessert table. It looks like they’re inspecting every single bowl of pudding as if trying to find the best ones. Are they really that interested in dessert, or are they trying to give us time to talk?
“Strange. Is that his thing? Does he just jump from teacher to teacher the whole summer? Seems inappropriate if you ask me.”
He sounds offended.
“Are you upset that he went after Gabriella?”
I just assumed he wouldn’t mind—it’s why I gave them my blessing last night and again today—but maybe I was wrong.
He shakes his head vehemently. “No. I thought you might be annoyed he was going after her now.”
I rear back. “Me?”
Oh right. Last he knew, I was into Lorenzo.
I frown down at my food. “Turns out he’s not my type after all. What a shock.”
“He wasn’t good enough.”
I snort. “Yeah, right. Accomplished handsome Italian man with a great personality—total dud, I see exactly what you mean.”
He pffts. “He was only ever average, and you’re…”
My heart swells and I work up the courage to look over at him, but his attention is down on his plate.
“Hilarious,” I supply.
He rolls his eyes.
“One of a kind.”
At this he pretends to gag himself with his fork.
“A total dream girl.”
He looks up and spears me with his warm gaze. “Audrey,” he deadpans.
“Noah,” I deadpan back.
We hold eye contact for one, two, three.
“Should we talk about last night?” I blurt.