Camera Obscuras, French Navy came on the radio and Nicole tapped her fingers to the fluttery beat. There were so many things to say, but as they sped along, she didn’t feel like talking. It was relaxing, moving fast but sitting still. Her breathing felt deep and medicinal. Was it Noah’s presence beside her? Or was she just happy to be gone?
“I’ve never run away from home before,” she said. “It’s kind of exciting.”
Noah did the little head-shake that said he was amused against his better judgement. “Glad to help.”
“Did you ever run away from home?”
His features twisted and she realised that was a pretty loaded question.
“Sorry, you don’t have to answer.”
“I know,” he said, eyes on the road. “I did, it just doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”
She wanted to ask what he meant, but decided it could wait. She and Noah had hours to get to know each other, after all. For the first time ever, she was on a trip without willing herself to already be at the destination.
They barreled along the freeway for twenty minutes when Noah unexpectedly slowed, pulling into a small petrol station and coffee place.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
“You said you needed the bathroom?”
“Oh! That was just an excuse to see your paintings again.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Then I guess let’s just get a coffee.”
He pulled up next to the drive through box and wound down the window. “One large latte, one medium decaf latte and four almond croissants.”
“Sure thing!”came the crackly response.“Drive through.”
Nicole wanted to thank him, but she was so baffled he knew her coffee, she couldn’t get the words out. They drove to the delivery window. Noah paid, handing her a bag of still-warm croissants and a takeaway coffee, wedging his own cup between his knees.
This is the smell!she realised. The warm, spicy smell she’d been unable to make out. It was almond pastries. “How often do you come here?”
“A lot.” He gestured for the croissants and she handed him a flaky pastry, wiping her hands on a napkin so she wouldn’t lick her fingers.
“Two are for you,” Noah said, mouth full of croissant. “Eat one.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Her stomach growled angrily but she ignored it. Simple sugars aged your skin. They gave you cellulite, and stimulated your hunger, so you were starving twenty minutes after you finished a doughnut. Why hadn’t she made a miso bowl or cut up some carrots—
A big hand poked her side. “Nikki, it’s a fuckingcroissant.”
Something in the way he said it, like he was passing down one of life’s great truths, made her snort with laughter. “Can you read minds?”
“I don’t need to read minds,” he said drily. “It’s all there on your face. Eat before I eat it for you.”
He’d already finished his first one and had reached over to take a second, so it wasn’t an idle threat. She pulled a pastry from the bag. It smelt like heaven. She paused, trying to take in the moment, then she bit down. The croissant was gorgeous; crisp on the outside and buttery in the middle. It was hard not to cram the rest into her mouth.
“Good?”
“Yes,” Nicole said with all the dignity she could muster. She shredded a piece off, took the lid off her coffee and dipped the piece of pastry inside. “Thank you.”
“Anytime. Your dad does that, too.”
“What?”
Noah’s smile was soft. “Dunks the croissants. Used to whenever I bought him one.”