Present Perfect(21)

“I think about you all the time, Tweet,” he said, lacing his fingers through mine.

“It’s nice to be thought about.” To date, that was one of the stupidest things I had ever said.

He smirked at me. “When you’re around, I want to touch you, hold your hand, or put my arms around you. I want to kiss you again.” He continued to hold my gaze, looking for some reaction on my face and in my eyes.

I swallowed a big gulp of air. I was ten seconds away from a full on panic attack. I could feel beads of sweat starting to form on my forehead and neck. My throat closed a little more and my muscles twisted even tighter. I didn’t know what to say, so I did what I usually do. I ran.

“Um…Noah, I have to go.”

Those beautiful eyes that were filled with caring a second earlier looked shocked, hurt, and pissed off. “You’re leaving?!” He definitely sounded pissed.

“I need to go check and make sure Tony got enough pictures and…um… Look, I’m sorry. I’ll see you later. Thanks again for the interview.” I had been clutching my backpack in one hand while Noah held the other. I got up and walked quickly away, pulling my hand free from his grip.





Honesty is not always the best policy when it hurts the person you care about the most and pushes them away.





I hung out in the journalism classroom for an hour before heading home. My hope was that Noah had already left school. I felt horrible running away from him like I did, especially since he had been so wonderful and sweet. He caught me off guard. I don’t do well on the fly, not when it comes to important things. I just needed some time to clear my head and collect my thoughts.

Brenda, a senior student reporter, was nice enough to give me a ride home. I entered my house taking in the aroma of my mom’s five star spaghetti sauce. Tossing my backpack on the kitchen counter, I found Mom hard at work frosting a chocolate cake.

“Hey. Mom,” I said as I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. I walked over to where she was and leaned back against the counter. “What ‘cha doing?”

“Well, sweetie, I’m spackling the walls,” she said, throwing a quick smirk my way.

“People often ask me where I get my smart-assness from,” I said.

“Do you let them know it’s from your father’s side of the family? You know they’re all afflicted.”

I noticed the table was set for six. There were only three of us in the house now that Emily was off at college.

“Why’s the table set for six?”

“The Stewarts are having dinner with us tonight,” she answered.

“Why?” The word felt thick in my throat.

“Because they have to eat, sweetie.”

She handed me the chocolate covered spatula and moved the cake over to the table.

“All of them?” I asked, my mouth full of frosting.

“Last time I checked, they all ate food.”

She was moving around the kitchen at warp speed, getting things ready for our dinner guests. She was a great mom, really, especially when she made extra frosting because she knew how much I loved it. However, there were those times, like right now, that it felt as if she and the universe were plotting against me.

As I sucked every last drop of frosting off the spatula, I could feel my nerves already starting to overtake my body at just the thought of seeing Noah later. I tossed the spatula in the sink, grabbed my things off the counter, and headed to my room. I heard my mom say, “Dinner will be in about two hours,” just before I shut my bedroom door and tried to figure out how I was going to get through this dinner.

I had too much nervous energy, so I went for a quick bike ride. I just rode in my neighborhood, completely avoiding Noah’s street. Usually cycling cleared my head, helped me focus, and come up with answers to whatever problem I might be dealing with at the moment. Today I had so many thoughts and feelings running through me that I couldn’t get a grasp on any of them.

When I got home, I showered and changed into my gray and white striped tank dress. I toweled dried my hair some and then let it air dry. I was sitting at my desk working on Noah’s article that was due by the end of the week. I figured I would stay in my room until I was summoned to dinner. I had been working for about thirty minutes when there was a knock on my door.

“Yeah?” I asked.

The door opened slightly. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The butterflies that were whirling around in my stomach and the goose bumps across my skin told me who stood in my doorway.

Noah poked his head in. “Your mom wanted me to tell you dinner is in twenty.”

“Thanks.”

He stood in the doorway for a minute before stepping completely inside my room, closing the door behind him. He walked over to me, placed his hands on the back of my chair as he looked over my shoulder, and asked, “What are you working on?”

“Your article,” I said, tilting my head back and looking straight up at him.

“Make me look good.”

“There’s no other way for you to look.”

Where the hell did that come from, Amanda Marie Kelly?

When he’s this close to me, I get flustered, and I can’t always control what comes out of my mouth.

Smiling at me, Noah crossed the room and sat on the end of my bed, leaning back on his arms. I turned my chair to face him. I knew he wanted to talk. I still didn’t know what to say to him. My feelings were completely confusing to me. I needed him in my life. I knew I wasn’t good enough for him, but I couldn’t stand the thought of another girl having his attention. The pull I felt towards him kept getting stronger and with what he said to me earlier today, I wasn’t sure if I could control these feelings much longer without acting on them. But, I knew acting on them would be the worst thing for our friendship. For now, I figured I would just wait to see if he brought it up. I would just have to wing it.