“Sure.” Ella stirred more Sugar in the Raw into her coffee.
“But then, when I came back, I told you it just . . . wasn’t the same?” Aria fiddled with the gnome salt and pepper shakers on the table. “It’s like, you can dream about something for so long, but sometimes reality doesn’t exactly quite live up.”
Ella clucked her tongue. “You know, you’re going to make someone very happy someday,” she said after a moment. “And someone is going to make you happy someday, too. You’ll know when it’s right.”
“How?” Aria asked quietly.
“You’ll just know it. I promise.”
Ella patted Aria’s hands, maybe waiting for Aria to say something else. When Aria didn’t, Ella rose to clear the table. Aria remained in her chair, deep in thought. She’d known something was different about Ezra as soon as he’d returned, but she hadn’t wanted to admit it. It was the same feeling she’d had about Reykjavik when the airport bus had driven them into town. She’d wanted to love it just as much, but it wasn’t the same place she remembered. The bar that sold soup in giant bread bowls was no longer on the corner. Aria’s old house had been painted a garish pink and had an ugly satellite dish that took up half the roof.
And then there was what had happened on that trip, something that had more or less ruined Aria’s memories of the country forever. It was a secret that only her old best friends knew, a secret she’d take with her to the grave.
When the doorbell rang, Aria straightened her spine. Could it be Ezra? Did she even want it to be Ezra? For both Ezra and Iceland some of the old magic was gone.
She rose from the table, cinched the belt of her robe around her waist, and pulled the door open. Noel stood on the porch, wringing his hands. “Hey.”
“Oh. Hi,” Aria said cautiously. “Are you looking for Mike?”
“No.”
Awkward seconds ticked by. The tap in the kitchen turned on, then off. Aria shifted from one foot to the other.
“I’ve missed you,” Noel blurted. “I can’t stop thinking about you. And I’m a complete ass. What I said in the hall the other day, it was bullshit. I didn’t mean it.”
Aria stared down at the gash in the floor she’d made when she was little by digging a clay knife into the soft wood, thinking she was a sculptor. “You were right, though. We are really different. You deserve someone more . . . Rosewood-y. Someone like Klaudia.”
Noel winced. “Oh, God. Not Klaudia. That girl’s crazy.”
A small light flickered on in Aria’s heart.
“She’s had me working like a dog after that ankle injury,” Noel said. “And I found out she’s a total klepto. She’s been stealing stuff from my room! Underwear, CDs, pages from my notebooks . . . and then I realized she took my leather jacket, that one that used to be my grandfather’s.”
Aria frowned. “I saw her wearing that in school. I figured you gave it to her.”
Noel looked horrified. “No way! And when I confronted her about it, she went ballistic. Then she went off about you, saying you were spreading lies about her—that you told everyone she threatened you, saying she was determined to sleep with me and that I shouldn’t believe it. But I kind of think she does want to sleep with me. A couple of nights ago, I woke up to her standing in my doorway, wearing . . .” He trailed off, an awkward look on his face. “I told my mom I wanted her out of the house.”
“Wow,” Aria said. Part of her wanted to gloat, but part of her just felt tired. “So . . . you didn’t sleep with her?” She couldn’t help but ask. It was kind of inconceivable to think Noel had resisted gorgeous Klaudia.
Noel shook his head. “I’m not into her like that, Aria. I like someone else.”
A frisson went through her. She didn’t dare look at him for fear she’d give too much away.
Noel leaned against the doorjamb. “I should have listened to you. About everything. I can understand if you don’t want to get back together, but . . . I miss you. Maybe we could at least be friends? I mean, who else will go with me to the rest of those cooking classes?”
Aria raised her head. “You liked those cooking classes?”
“They’re kind of girly, but they’re fun.” Noel smiled shyly. “And anyway, we need to have our Iron Chef battle at the end of the semester.”
The heady scent of the orangey soap Noel always used tickled Aria’s nose. What was he asking for: a companion to cooking class . . . or for Aria to be his girlfriend again? Maybe it was too late to get back together. Maybe they really didn’t have enough in common. Aria would never be a Typical Rosewood, after all. It wasn’t even worth trying for.
She must have been taking too long to answer, because Noel breathed in sharply. “You’re not back with that teacher dude again, are you? When I saw you guys together last night . . .”