Before You Go

THIRTY

After our presentation, Noah tells me he thinks it’s time we move on with our experiment. And before I know it, he’s scheduled it for tonight.

At seven p.m., we begin Stage Four.

S.E.X.

As the clock ticks toward seven, I get more nervous with each passing second. I spend those ticking seconds going through my pathetic wardrobe and trying on a few outfits before settling on jeans and a blue sweater—the one Jules dug out of the garbage. The one I bought to impress Mom but threw out to make myself feel better after she ruined our Thanksgiving. Hope it’s not covered in bad juju.

There’s a knock on the door at exactly seven.

When I open it, Noah sweeps me up in his arms. “God, I’ve missed you,” he whispers in my ear.

“You have no idea.” I take his bottom lip in mine, no longer able to contain myself.

After I attack his mouth, and Noah indulges, he pulls back. “I’m sorry your mom didn’t show for Thanksgiving.” He kisses my forehead.

“It’s okay, not that big of a surprise.”

I know Noah wants me to open up to him about this, but I don’t want my mother to ruin this moment.

“We still had a nice time,” I tell him. “But I missed you so much. I don’t want to waste another second. Let’s get started. Where do you want me?”

Noah holds me by the waist. “Baby, I want nothing more than to get my hands on you. But I’ve been thinking. I want to stop the experiments. Let’s let this happen naturally. When I make love to you the first time I want to know it’s because you want to, not because of a stupid experiment.”

“It’s not stupid,” I say a little put off. “This has helped me more than you’ll ever know. To be able to be with you this way. To trust you with my body, my heart. I never thought I’d have this again. It means everything to me.”

“Me, too.” Noah swallows and pulls his eyebrows together. “I want to give you everything, Tabby. I want to take you out, feed you, romance you. I want you to have it all.”

“So, you’re saying you want to date?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Sure, I can do normal.” I laugh. “At least for a night.”

Noah’s face lights up at that, brighter than I’ve ever seen it.

And within five minutes, we’re on a date. Driving downtown, Noah maneuvers along the one-ways like a pro. We park at the library and he slings a backpack over his shoulder and takes my hand, leading me to Nicollet Mall—though it’s not really a mall, it’s a mile-long pedestrian thoroughfare flanked by stores and restaurants. Dad used to take me shopping here when I was a kid, and of course, to the parade. That’s right, the Christmas parade. I remember watching it from Dad’s shoulders when I was little. Then he’d take me for a fancy hot cocoa at this cool art deco restaurant. It was one of the best things about Christmas.

Noah scouts out the perfect spot and pulls a blanket out of his backpack.

Yay! We’re staying for the parade.

I can’t hide my smile. This is perfection.

Noah lays the blanket on the sidewalk and pulls out another to cover us after we sit. Then he takes out a thermos of hot cocoa and Christmas cookies—or should I say Hanukkah cookies? They’re in the shapes of the Star of David, menorahs, and dreidels, and covered in blue icing.

Best. Date. Ever.

High school bands playing holiday tunes march by us, while people covered in Christmas lights dance along the street. They’re dressed up like snowmen and stars and storybook characters. I scream when the Big Bad Wolf jumps out at me from behind a float. Noah laughs and pulls me in tight.

“See,” he says in my ear. “We’re good at this.”

“Yeah,” I agree “We are.” I lean into him and the rest of the world falls away.

Too soon, the last float rolls past us—the one with Santa waving and the elves throwing candy canes—and the parade-goers fight to get to their cars. But Noah and I just sit. We’re in no hurry.

He wraps his arms around me and I snuggle in.

We don’t even need the mistletoe.