Present Perfect(22)

“Tweet, what was the deal today?”

“What deal are you referring to?”

“Don’t do that. Now’s not the time to play dumb.”

“You seem to be under the impression that I play dumb.”

“Why’d you run away from me today?”

“I really had to leave.”

I was starting to feel anxious and when I feel anxious, I have to move. I walked over to my dresser and fumbled around until I found my brush. I pushed the bristles forcefully through my hair before piling it on top of my head, and pinning it securely. I could see in the mirror, Noah watching my every move.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because we we’re having guests for dinner.” I was trying to keep things light and breezy. By the look on his face I could tell Noah wasn’t in the mood for light and breezy.

Siting up straight he began to shake his head. Huffing in frustration, he said, “Dammit Tweet, would you stop being such a smartass for one minute.” I turned to face him. “You do this every time there’s something serious to talk about.”

“Do what?”

“Make jokes and then run away.” He kept his voice low, but he was fuming.

He ran both his hands over his face a couple of times while waiting on my response.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Please talk to me.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“Then I’ll start,” his voice was soft as he continued. He stood and walked slowly towards me. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever noticed and the last girl I’ll ever notice. My first kiss was the greatest first kiss in the history of first kisses because it was with you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I took a step back, bumping into the dresser. He was standing right in front of me, his light blue eyes holding me captive. He placed his hands on the dresser, on either side of my hips, and leaned in close. My breathing accelerated. I felt his lips lightly brush across my temple. The shivers he caused were off the charts. His lips moved down to my ear, skimming lightly across my skin like a feather. The feel of his warm breath on my neck caused my head to spin. I had to lean back more on the dresser to support myself. Once his lips reached my ear, I heard in a whispered tone, “I want you to be more than my best friend. I want you to be my girlfriend. What do you want, Tweet?”

I knew this would happen. I’m weak. I snapped. I couldn’t take it any longer, the months of dreaming about him day and night, the constant butterflies in my stomach caused by him. He was so close. His lips left a trail of heat wherever they touched, his words made me melt, his eyes where that beautiful shade of blue, and he smelled like sweet fresh oranges.

I had reached my breaking point when I breathlessly whispered, “I want you.”

Noah pulled away slightly and tilted his head. As his lips moved in closer, my breathing became more erratic, and my heart was pounding against my chest wall. The new sensation between my legs was driving me insane.

His gaze traveled up and down my face, landing on my eyes. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered.

My eyes automatically fluttered closed. I felt the slightest touch of his lips on mine. My mind was whirling around as my body responded to him. Suddenly, a loud knock reverberated around the room startling us both. Noah jumped back, turning away from me. The quick movement caused me to fall forward slightly. We heard my dad yell, “Dinner!”

Noah glanced at me over his shoulder, a look of terror flashed across his face.

“Don’t worry. He won’t come in,” I said.

My dad was famous for the knock and walk. He implemented it the day he came in the front door to find Professor Tampon, aka my mother, giving a 12-year-old Emily and two of her friends a lecture on the proper use of feminine hygiene products, with visual aids.

Steadying myself, I ran my hands down my dress, smoothing it out. I looked over at Noah. He still wasn’t facing me. My eyes started at his broad shoulders and then traveled down his muscular back, to his hips, where his hands rested. His biceps strained slightly against the material of his shirt. I shook my head trying to clear it of thoughts of Noah’s body.

I took one more quick look of his fantastic back side before clearing my throat, and asking, “Noah, are you coming?”

His chin was tucked into his chest as he held up his index finger, indicating he needed a few minutes before he would be able to join us. I felt it was best to leave him alone, so I went to dinner.





We were all sitting around the table eating by the time Noah joined us. He sat in the only empty seat left which happened to be next to me. Dad and Mr. Stewart talked about work while Mom and Mrs. Stewart shared the neighborhood gossip. I was trying to recover from the intense moment in my room earlier. I would have been able to do that if Noah hadn’t been sitting right next to me. That was bad enough, but he kept finding subtle ways of touching me. What happened in my room was a mistake, even though it didn’t go very far, it went far enough. I had to be strong and put a stop to things happening between us.

Noah put his arm around the back of my chair and reached across me for some bread, which brought his face so close to mine his lips were almost touching my cheek.

Keeping my voice low, I said, “I know what you’re doing.”