Page 68 of City of Love

“You want something to eat before we go?” Noel says when he sees me. “We have brioche.”

“Brioche sounds good,” I say. I wrap two slices of the sweet bread in a paper towel, and then we head out.

“Where are we going?” I say as we walk, munching on my bread.

“We’re going to my flat first, and then we’re going to the homeless shelter and food kitchen.”

I nod, my mouth now too full to speak. When I swallow, I say, “Sounds good.”

“We shouldn’t be too long,” he says. “And then we can go do something fun. In the meantime, let me tell you about the nonprofit stuff.”

“Yes, please,” I say. So far social work and event planning have been ruled out. I’m not sure about beauty school, but I’d love to hear more about what Noel was studying.

“So there are a few ways you can do it. The university I attended had a business program that allowed me to specialize in nonprofit management. Some places might require a more general business degree—or a public service degree—for undergraduate studies and then will allow a master’s in a more specialized area of study.”

I nod slowly, thinking. “So what kind of things do you learn? How to run a business or organization, obviously—financial stuff and business structure and whatnot?”

“That,” he says, nodding. “And things like community outreach, resource management, grant writing…leadership training,” he adds.

“Huh,” I say. “That actually sounds really interesting.”

“It is,” he admits. “I enjoyed it for the most part.”

“And you liked your school?”

“I did.”

I tilt my head, looking over at him. “Why do you want to go back?”

He shrugs, looking suddenly self-conscious. “I need to be doing something. There are so many people out there who need so much help, and I’m in a position to help them. Or Icouldbe in a position to help them. Now that we’re shutting down—”

“Your ‘nonprofit organization?’” I finish for him, my voice wry.

He grins over at me. “Yeah. Now that we’re shutting that down, I’ve got time and energy to spare.”

We start down the stairs to the metro, and once we’ve swiped our cards and gotten on, Noel tells me more. “I like that there are so many different directions you can go, too. There are a lot of problems that need solving in any number of countries and continents. You could go anywhere, and you could focus on anything—health or literacy or finances or employment, plus so many others.”

We continue to talk until we get to Noel’s flat, and when we arrive, he again goes to the safe. This time, though, he doesn’t try to hide anything from me.

“You should invest in a more comfortable couch,” I say, sitting while he pulls a few small boxes and an envelope out of the safe.

“That one folds out to a bed,” he says, focused on his task.

“Yes, but lots of couches do that. And many of them are probably comfortable. You’re going to hurt your back if you sleep on this.”

He grins up at me. “I’m touched that you’re concerned for the state of my back.”

“Shut up,” I say, but I smile too. My eyes get stuck on the tilt of his lips, on how soft they look, before I come to my wits and realize I’m staring.

“Got everything?” I say, pulling my gaze away.

“Yes,” he says, and something about his voice has me looking back at him.

Crap. That is the face of a man who knows I was staring at his lips. His eyes have darkened, his gaze lingering on my mouth the same way I was watching his.

The tension in this room is suddenly combustible. The only sound I hear is the unsteady rhythm of my breathing, and I can tell that his is just as unsteady from the rise and fall of his chest.

Don’t do it. Don’t kiss him. Don’t—

---