The Intimacy Experiment (The Roommate #2)(42)
Naomi rose to the occasion of commanding the larger space, projecting her voice effortlessly and strolling the aisles as she spoke. While she made herself accessible, she retained an aloofness that made the audience crave her approval. In contrast, Ethan tried to create a relationship with his congregants in which they could forget to be formal with him. He tried to come across as someone who could as easily be a friend as a mentor or leader. But maybe that had contributed to the board not taking him as seriously as he’d hoped. Naomi’s oratorical style was more fluid than his, flexing from authoritative to empathetic depending on the conversation. Perhaps he ought to take a leaf out of her book.
The impact of the seminars was slowly flowing to the synagogue. Turnout at services had started to pick up. Yesterday Ethan had taken a phone interview with a local reporter. The progress, though obviously welcome, also made him surprisingly nervous. Would he live up to the expectations of his new audiences? Would they accept the middle ground he occupied between traditional teachings and modern adaptation?
To add to his stress, the rumors about his “hunt for a wife” had only grown. He’d started getting calls from as far as the East Coast. Even tonight, a cluster of women lingered at the door, waiting to ambush him. The one in the center kept squinting up at him and then down at a picture clutched in her hand. A flash of the distinct cobalt blue of his favorite tallis told him it was his headshot from the synagogue website. Good grief.
He needed an exit strategy. Maybe if he could somehow signal distress to Naomi, she’d come rescue him?
At the front of the room, she bent her head, deep in conversation with one of a handful of people who’d lined up to speak to her. When she tossed her hair, laughing at something one of the guys said, a stab of envy hit Ethan in the gut.
Finally her line dwindled, and she looked up to find him loitering. She probably wished she could avoid this conversation after he’d made things so awkward on the phone. But Ethan had given himself a pep talk in the parking lot this afternoon, so one way or another, he was going to tell Naomi how he felt.
“Sorry,” she said, making her way over to the brave women still waiting for him, “but you’re going to have to exit the auditorium. Rabbi Cohen and I need to have an official debrief of tonight’s lecture, and it’s probably going to take a while.” She pushed the door open with her hip and waved them cheerfully through. “I’ve been known to go all night.”
“Get home safely,” Ethan offered sheepishly. “Hope to see you next week.”
The heavy door shut behind them with a loud slam, leaving him alone with Naomi in a very quiet room.
He joined her where she’d started wiping down the whiteboard, leaning against it for a moment before realizing he had pressed his sweater against the marker, then jumping back.
“So, about the other night,” he said, too loudly.
She kept moving the eraser without turning to look at him. “What about it?”
“That thing I said in the car, about looking for a girlfriend?”
“Oh.” Naomi stopped wiping for a moment, and he watched her spine go straight as a ruler. “Yeah.”
“That was nonsense.” Releasing the truth on an exhale, he breathed out relief.
Finally Naomi turned around. “It was?” Her words came out careful, giving him plenty of time to reconsider his excuse, but he didn’t want to have this flimsy deception between them. He didn’t want anything between them, if he was honest.
“Yeah. I was a little drunk, and perhaps vaguely concussed. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
She put the bottle of cleaning spray down on the lectern as if it had suddenly become too heavy to hold. “So, you’re not looking to date anyone, then?”
Did she sound relieved? He wished he could wipe the tension from her forehead. He shoved his hands in his pockets instead.
“It’s not that I don’t want to date, exactly. It’s more that I don’t want to impose upon you to find someone for me.” Why was telling her how he felt so hard? Why couldn’t he just say that he liked her?
She reached up and swept her hair off her neck into a knot, securing it with a band from her wrist. “I don’t mind.”
“You don’t?” There was his answer, then.
If she had any romantic interest in him herself, surely she wouldn’t volunteer so nonchalantly. He supposed this was for the best, her subtle dismissal. Obviously entering into a deeper relationship with Naomi would make continuing the seminar series more complicated.
Still, disappointment curled his shoulders toward his ears.
“Nope,” Naomi repeated. “As you said, chemistry—even other people’s—is one of my gifts.” Her tone softened for the first time all night. “And besides, you deserve to find love.”
Her emphasis on the word you caught him off guard.
“Doesn’t everyone?” To have something to do with his hands, Ethan walked the aisles and collected stray pens and crumpled-up paper left on or under the seats.
“No,” she said simply, resuming her task. “I keep a list.”
“Of people who deserve love?” He should like the vicious side of her less, probably.
She shrugged. “Love is precious, right? Something coveted. Why shouldn’t people have to earn it?”
He wanted to tell her love was inherent. That it existed in many intangible forms. That she could build love by extending it. But something in the twist of her mouth and the guarded curve of her jaw made him swallow the promises.