“Liza,” his strained voice stops me.
“What?” I face him hesitantly.
“The other day. I thought...” he trails off.
“You thought, what? You’d lead me on and then ghost me? Well done.”
He shakes his head vehemently, taking a long step toward me until we’re face to face, and I have to look up at him to keep eye contact. “I thought you and Jonah...”
Ah. Jonah’s been telling everyone we’re back together. That explains Noah’s look earlier. But that’s no excuse.
“I thought I made it clear that wasn’t going to happen,” I remind him.
“You did,” he admits.
“So, you heard a rumor, and instead of just talking to me, you chose to believe it.” I’m done taking bullshit from guys.
But unlike Jonah, Noah doesn’t make excuses, and it surprises me. “I did. I did exactly that. And I’m sorry. I should have just asked you about it.”
“Yeah. You should have.” I walk away, leaving him standing there drowning in his own guilt. I don’t owe him, or anyone, anything, even if a part of me still very much wants to.
11
Jonah has finally gotten the hint, and while he’s still blocked from mobile communication, he’s stopped trying to talk to me at the beach as well.
Noah, on the other hand, has not given up.
For the past three days, I awoke to “good morning” texts from him. He’s checked on me at the beach daily. He even bought me an iced coffee yesterday, trying to make up for ghosting me last week. And it’s just too hard to stay mad at him. Not when his transgression was relatively benign, and when I do understand his reasons—even if they still are no actual excuse.
But it’s as if he’s doing everything reasonably in his power to prove to me he is actually sorry, and just not regretful, but that he’s learned some kind of lesson. Like he’s trying to make it up to me. And every day my heart has thawed that much more.
It doesn’t hurt that he’s absolutely gorgeous, and seeing him half-naked at the beach every day...a girl only has so much will power, after all.
This morning is different, though.
I got no text, and I have to wonder if I’ve been giving him too hard a time. I
f he’s finally given up.
But when I open my front door to head out for the day, he’s standing there, on my front doorstep, just like the first time he came to check on me after what happened with Jonah.
It takes me aback.
“What, uh, are you doing here?” I ask.
“Come sit,” he says soberly, gesturing to my front porch, and confused, I follow him and do exactly that.
Noah stares at me intently. “I haven’t been completely honest with you,” he says meaningfully.
I swallow audibly. What now?
“I mean, partly about why I pulled back after we hung out. Why I didn’t kiss you that day, as much as he wanted to...”
I’m shocked by his statement, and I stare, biting my lip as I try to make sense of it before he continues.
He blows out a long exhale. “Look Liza, I want you. You must know I do. But it’s more than that, and it wasn’t until we spent the day together that I realized just how much. I wanted a summer fling, but you’re much more than that.”
Oh?