"Tyree called you his girlfriend."
"He did?"
"Is he?"
"That's not really your business," I say.
"Is he?" Noah repeats, his voice tight, almost as if the answer could hurt him.
For a moment I consider telling Noah that we're involved. It would be a lie, but it would make everything so much easier. I could say we'd had a fight and I was vulnerable, and that's why I slept with Noah. But that everything is back to normal now, and Ares is my guy and Noah is my boss.
It's a solid plan. It would put up a nice clean barrier between us, one that would erase any what ifs, and make it so much easier to focus on work. To sweep the past away so that we didn't have to deal with any lingering emotions at all. Because why bother settling old hurts or rekindling buried desire if there's no endgame?
Yet I can't make myself say the words. I want easy--I do. God knows my past with Noah was hard enough to last a lifetime. I should be jumping all over the chance to shut this down--whatever this is.
But I don't. I can't.
And I'm not sure if it's because I can't bring myself to drag Ares into a lie--or because I don't want to put up those barriers.
"We're not dating," I say, then turn away from him as I pour myself a cup of coffee. "You never answered my question either. Do you want coffee?"
"No, thanks. I had some at home. I'm cutting down."
I face him, cradling my cup instead of holding it by the handle. It's hot on my palms, and it gives me something to focus on other than how he looks so at home sitting at my table. Like we do this all the time, just spend a weekend morning in the kitchen talking. "Orange juice?" I offer.
He shakes his head but says nothing.
"We're not even roommates," I add, though why I need to clarify that, I have no idea. I'm probably just rambling to fill time. "He's just staying here because Seven Percent doesn't leave until Monday, and he's already leased out his place for the length of the tour."
"Oh." I see the tiniest hint of a smile touch his lips, as if he's fighting hard not to grin. "Well, I hope the tour goes well."
"It will. Their band is rock solid," I add, then bite back a little chuckle.
"What?"
I shake my head. "Nothing. If Ares were in the room, I'd be teasing him about how they need a female lead singer."
"And that's funny because . . ."
"He's asked me to tour with them. It would just be my way of giving him shit." I meet Noah's eyes, then quickly look away. I'd forgotten how easy it is to just talk to him, and I'm not entirely sure why the feeling that we're sliding back into a rhythm makes me nervous.
I point to the Keurig coffee maker behind me, deliberately shifting gears. "You sure you don't want some? I have decaf."
"Yeah, okay. Why not? So why aren't you?" he asks as I start a cup for him.
It takes me a second to realize he means the tour and not the coffee. "Well, for one thing, it would be hard to work for you if I was on a stage in Deep Ellum," I say, referencing a club-filled area in Dallas where I know Seven Percent is playing first.
"I'm not saying you should go--trust me, after interviewing everyone else, I'd be doubly sad if you decided to skip out."
"Doubly?" I ask, putting his coffee on the table and taking the seat across from him.
"I want you here," he says plainly. "And not just because of work."
"Oh." I take a sip of coffee. He's spoken pretty damn clearly, but I'm still not sure how to interpret that. But I'm also not going to ask.
"What I meant was that I'm surprised your business is marketing now. That's all. When we--I just mean that you were always focused on the music."