“So,” I start after I order some sort of fancy pasta. I’m not entirely sure what all went into it (why are fancy dishes so confusing?), but it has cheese and noodles and a cool name. Plus it probably cost more than what I make per hour, so it should be good. “Do you still work at the Roadhouse Bar?”
Noah laughs. “You don’t know?”
“No, I don’t. I told you, Noah, I don’t know you anymore.”
“You will soon enough,” he says, eyes meeting mine. Damn you, Noah. Only you are able to make ordinary words in an ordinary sentence borderline orgasmic.
“So, what do you do?”
“I’m a photographer.”
“Really?” I might have leaned back with surprise. “Like a real one?”
He laughs again. “As opposed to what, a fake one?”
“Or one that takes pictures of naked women in their basement and calls them models.”
“I don’t have a basement,” he says. “I live in an apartment in the city. And yeah, I’ll call myself a real one. I did get a degree in art.”
I knew he and Colin went to the same college. My brother got a degree in marketing, and I kind of assumed Noah just floated along, posing as a TA to get in girls’ pants. And now I’m starting to feel guilty for assuming anything about him.
“Why photography?”
He shrugs. “Being honest … I had to pick a major. Photography seemed easy and was a good excuse to take those basement photos you were referring to, which led to hookups in college. Then I got my first photography job and realized I could make a decent living doing something that had no set hours. Plus I’m good at it, I guess. Win for me.”
“What kind of photos do you take?”
“Whatever I get hired to do, really. I worked for a magazine for a while before starting my own business. I can show you sometime.”
“So do you have a studio?”
“I do. On Washington street.”
I know exactly where that is. It’s the historic district of this town, located near the heart of the business center. It’s a busy place, ideal for any sort of shop or store, and rent isn’t cheap on that street. He must do pretty well.
“And you work at…?”
“Banfield Animal Hospital. I’m a vet tech.”
“You like it?”
“Oh, I love it. It’s what always wanted to do.”
“I remember. It was one of the first things you ever told me,” he says then looks almost embarrassed. “In Mrs. Jefferson’s office.”
I have to think back for a second. “Oh right. You were in trouble or something. Why?”
He shrugs. “I don’t even remember.”
Curls fall over my shoulder when I shake my head. “I never would have thought we’d be here, in this situation.”
“Yeah … things have gone off course of what I expected too.” He reaches across the table, fingertips touching mine. “It doesn’t mean it’s bad, though.”
He locks eyes with me, holding steady as if looking away would be the death of him. My heart flutters and suddenly I’m looking at a whole new Noah, one that holds a promise of a future.
Maybe this can work after all.
“So,” I say and pull my hand back, afraid of how intense my feelings are becoming. “If this was a normal first date, what would we do after dinner?”