Page 101 of Time Loops & Meet Cutes
“Around one.”
“And you’re ready to text her and say that you miss her?”
“Hm. Good idea.”
I say that mainly to make him laugh—and it works—but I might as well message her. I do miss Noelle, even if we’ve only been apart for a few hours, and I wish I could watch another movie—this time, with her. There are so many things I haven’t done with her yet that I’m looking forward to doing.
ME: When can I see you again? Tomorrow?
NOELLE: Sure!
I didn’t expect her to actually agree to that—I thought she’d have a rule about being responsible on a Monday night—but I’m sure as hell not complaining.
“You are so gone for this woman.” Justin shakes his head.
“Yeah, I am.”
I think back to the night of Justin’s first date with his boyfriend, the way he tried not to grin when he came home. Unlikehim, I don’t play it down, but my smile dims as I think of finding her in the middle of the night. Was something else up, other than what she told me?
Sometimes, I have the oddest feelings when it comes to Noelle. Like a prickle at the edge of my consciousness, but I can’t quite get there.
Perhaps there’s something she’s not telling me, or perhaps it’s just my imagination. We had a good morning together, after all.
I decide I won’t worry about it.
On Monday, Noelle comes over after work while the curry—the one I was supposed to make on Saturday—is simmering on the stove. Justin won’t be back for a few hours, so it’s just the two of us.
“It smells great in here,” she says as I hang up her jacket. “No bear incidents today?”
“Nope, nothing to interfere with my cooking plans.”
I pull her in for a kiss, eventually dragging myself away to tend to the food.
“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” I say. “Do you want a beer? We could split a can if you don’t want to drink a lot, or I could make you some tea.”
“Beer sounds good.” She smiles at me, and for a moment, I think it really is too bad that we need to have dinner, even if I enjoy watching her eat.
Some people would serve an IPA with this meal, but I have a hunch she doesn’t like those, so I select a crisp lager instead. It’s not one of ours; it’s from a different Toronto brewery.
“What’s the difference between a lager and an ale?” she asks. “I know I read about it once, but I forget.” She’s blushing a little, and I have no idea why. When I don’t immediately answer, shesays, “I, uh, did some research about beer before we went on our first date.”
“You wanted to impress me?”
“No! I mean… well, I just wanted to know more about you, that’s all.” She sips the lager. She’s still blushing, and I take the glass out of her hand and kiss her again, because I can’t seem to do otherwise.
After dinner, she insists on helping me clean up before we retreat to the bedroom, where I coax more moans out of her. While she did seem to enjoy my food, I think she enjoys this even more.
And after, I get to lazily hold her. I feel like my mouth is hurting from smiling, yet I don’t want to stop. I trace the freckles on her cheeks with my finger, then dip my hand to her chest—she’s still naked.
My phone rings on my bedside table.
“Crap,” I mutter, looking at the screen. “It’s my mom.”
“You can get it,” she says.
I do, but I’m determined to make it fast.
“Hello,” I say into the phone.
