Page 86 of Into The Light
"What do you like?" I ask.
"Not telling. I wanna know whatyoulike."
"I don't know."
She laughs, pausing in the doorway. “Exactly the point! Pick something that interests you."
We stay up way too late, sipping wine—not my favorite, but she likes it, so I drink it—and eating popcorn and watching a movie. I pick one calledThree Hundred, which she claims to have not seen before. When that’s over, I insist she show me her favorite movie, which turns into a long discussion ofwhichfavorite because she has several. She picksThe Princess Bridebut falls asleep around the time when the giant is fighting the man in black.
This time when we fall asleep together, it's in her bed.
Best sleep of my life.
The weeksthat follow are amazing.
We work, meet at the shelter, go on walks, eat dinner—either out or at her house. I spend as many nights with her as I do at my own place.
We make out a lot. On a few memorable occasions, I use my fingers and mouth to make her come, and she does the same for me.
But we're in no rush.
I'm enjoying just being with her. I don't need more.
Iwantmore.
I want to make love with her. I want that full connection. But I sense she's not ready. She needs this interlude period. And, to be honest, so do I.
On a couple of occasions, she brings lunch to the worksite—bags of burgers and fries from a local place, with enough for all the guys on the demo crew.
She, Darius, and I form a friendship—I'm closest with him of all the guys. On one such day, some six or so weeks after that life-changing rainstorm, she brings dinner for the crew—this time, it’s homemade chimichangas, several casserole dishes full of fat little tortillas stuffed with meat, beans, rice, and cheese, topped with more melted cheese, sour cream, and salsa. We're working late, trying to finish the last two houses on the block of the ones Riley and Felix own.
We're sitting in clusters on the curb, eating, laughing, teasing each other. The food is delicious, and it's a warm, beautiful summer night. When the food is gone and everyone is stuffed, Noelle gathers the dishes, paper plates, and silverware, packs it up, and brings it to her car while the guys resume the last of the cleanup.
I'm outside the house I’ve been working on, emptying a wheelbarrow into the dumpster. I've got one eye on Noelle as she plays with Panzer in the yard a few dozen feet away.
I notice someone else watching her, too.
Duane.
And the look on his face is ugly.
Evil.
Jealous.
Later, on the way home, I squeeze Noelle's knee. "You have a run-in with Duane?"
She nods, frowning. "Yeah, once. The first time I met you at the site. Why?"
I shrug, not wanting to worry her. "I don't like him. I don't like how he looks at you."
"Me either. He said some nasty things, but Darius set him straight." She waves a hand. "He’s just lonely, jealous, and insecure. Don't worry about him."
My gut tells me otherwise, but I keep that to myself. I can't exactly beat him up for looking at her. I might have, once upon a time. I'm not that person anymore, though, so the best I can do is keep an eye on him.
Two weeks later,we're at a grocery store not far from her house, shopping for dinner. We're in the produce section, and she’s selecting a bag of apples while scanning the list in her hand.
"Hey, Bear, honey, can you go grab some sour cream? I forgot it when we were over there."
