Page 32 of Backslide
“No problem,” he says, almost bashful. “Anytime.”
“Be careful what you offer.”
“I stand by it.Anytime.”
He holds her gaze for a beat, tension humming between them like a live wire. And, in that instant, he lets himself believe that maybe he’s not the only one who feels it.
“Alright,” Nellie says, finally. “But next time I smoke too much pot, don’t be surprised if I send up a flare.”
“I’ll be on the lookout.”
She smiles, hesitates, gazing down at the sidewalk and then back up at him. “Okay. Well… bye.”
“Bye,” Noah says. Stupidly. Moronically. Idiotically.
Like a fucking fool.
And, as she starts to walk away, he turns to leave too, making incidental eye contact with the nearby doorman. The man shrugs from under his cap, looking a little disappointed. Like,you win some, you lose some—and today you lost.
Why is this happening? Noah is never this way. Sure, he’s liked girls before. Made out with many. Dated a few. But this girl… this is different.
And he doesn’t even know her.
It’s not even because she’s hot. Even though she is. There’s just something about her.
He takes one step. Then two. Then he thinks,fuck it. And he pivots back around.
“Hey, Nell!” he calls out.
And she turns around, looking—could it be?—hopeful.
“Yeah?”
He jogs back toward her, so they’re only a couple feet from each other. He is reminded of the moment in the kitchen, right before Sabrina walked in. The electric pull between them as they drew closer.
The air between them thick.
“I was just thinking, flares don’t work that well. So, we should probably exchange numbers. You know, in case there’s an emergency.”
Her cheeks flush, pink. And though she tries to restrain it, her million-dollar smile wins out.
“That would be smart,” she agrees. “In case of emergency.”
And only after a full minute of staring at each other dopily do they realize they don’t have a pen.
“Here,” says a deep voice from a few feet away. The doorman digs into his blazer’s inside pocket and pulls out a shiny ballpoint. He hands it to Noah with a wink.
Nellie pulls a piece of gum from her pocket, unwraps it, pops it in her mouth, and hands Noah the foil, matte white side up.
Leaning the paper against a scratched-up blue mailbox, they both scribble their phone numbers. He rips the wrapper in half, and they each pocket their jagged scraps.
“So, next time I get super paranoid, you’re the first person I’ll call.” Nellie smiles, fiddling with the fringe of her shorts against her upper thigh.
“Okay. But that’s gonna be soon, right?” Noah says. “Like, should we run back upstairs and roll a blunt? Start another freak-out?”
“Now?”
“Well, the thing is, I’d kind of like to talktonight.”
