Page 74 of Mr. Picture Perfect
Noah adjusts his glasses, then tightens his smile. He really is the most adorable person in this whole town. I just hope that with some more time together, he’ll see it himself.
He’ll see how beautiful he is.
“Catch you later,” I say.
He returns the cutest blush and wave before I see myself out.
It turns out the dent made in the nose of my car by hitting the mailbox is a tad worse than it looked last night. I’ll have to take it to the auto shop to get it fixed. Maybe Joel can give me a discount if I butter him up a little by saying some kind things about his wife Mindy’s makeup talents.
I close my eyes.
Noah is atop me in my driver’s seat, kissing me without relent as his hands groped my body.
Then the car lurching forward without warning.
Ramming into the mailbox.
I’ve never been in any kind of car accident my whole life. Not even a bump. Last night was my first. And I can’t for the life of me think of any better way for it to happen than it did.
But maybe I should spend less time thinking about how good Noah’s lips felt on my body and more time being thankful that no one died. Except for the mailbox. It was a fairly irresponsible thing to let happen, being in control of a large moving object during such a compromising activity.
Even if that compromising activity was amazing.
And I wouldn’t trade it for gold.
I crouch down to check that the mailbox is empty, then pick it up and bring it to the side of the house, where I figure it will be safe until I come back this afternoon to fix it. Then I hop in my car, give the front of Noah’s house one last glance, and take off.
The drive home is quick, but it’s sure full of bubbly thoughts of that last look Noah gave me before I left. I am nearly in disbelief at how happy I feel right now. Even as I pull into my driveway, my heart is still floating in the words, stories, and emotions Noah and I shared with each other last night. I wished the night would never end. I would spend countless more over there, just to be within his proximity, to be within his reach, to feel how amazing life can be.
And to kiss him everywhere that I didn’t last night.
To show him all the things I haven’t shown him yet.
To give him every last experience he’s craved but never had the confidence to ask for or pursue himself.
I want to give Noah everything.
After hopping out of the car with my neatly-packed breakfast, I come in through the side gate. Sitting on the paved walkway by Nan’s garden is Porridge, who pops her head up. I crouch down and give her some loving. “Hey, girl! You would notbelievethe night I had. After I get home from work and fixing Noah’s mailbox, you and I are gonna sit out here under the stars and I’ll tell you all about it, alright?” I reconsider. “Well, I’ll tell you about the parts that areappropriatefor your impressionable ears.”
I hear shouting from inside.
I look up, concerned.
After a quick kiss on Porridge’s head, I leave her and hurry in through the back door.
The moment I enter, a square, tan-and-yellow striped pillow hits me in the face. I catch it with my free hand, bewildered, then realize it came from my mom, who appears to be throwing items off of the couch.
Oh, she’s aiming for my dad, who stands across the room from her. “Lauren, I’m notcheatin’on you, for Christ’s sake, I was just—”
“Five in the morning, Robert?Five??”
“Why’s it always zero or a hundred with you?” He puts a hand to his forehead and shuts his eyes. “Damn it,Lauren, I’m tired of—”
“Say my name like that one more time,” she growls under her breath. “I dare you to say it one more time. I’ve got countless more things I’m not afraid to throw, if you don’t tell me where you were until five fucking AM.”
“There’s this thing called ajobthat I work at …”
“You and your sarcasm,” she spits back, teeth shaking.
