Authors: Sarah White
Leah
I’m not sure if this day can get any more embarrassing. Waking up in Noah’s bed with my swollen eyes and crazy hair was bad enough, but now I am stuck sitting in my towel on the floor of the empty guest room. My bag with all of my clothes is in Noah’s room and I’m not about to go ask for it. I let my head fall against the wall behind me and hope that they remember that their coffee is getting cold out there on the counter.
I don’t have anywhere I need to be until this afternoon, so at least I have that going for me. I adjust the towel and slide my legs out in front of me. I can’t really be angry with him. He was upfront about his lifestyle and he’s doing me a huge favor letting me stay here. What I’m angry about is the way my heart hurt when his eyes met mine a few minutes ago.
I rub my face with my hands. Hanging out in this empty room is going to suck if he and coffee girl plan on being locked up in his room for a while. I wait about ten minutes longer and then stick my head out into the hallway to see if the coast is clear. When I don’t find anyone in the living room, I make my way out to the couch and pick up the remote before sinking down into the cushions and flipping on the TV.
I cross my legs and prop my feet up on the table in front of me. I scan the guide and quickly decide that
The Notebook
would not be a great choice. I opt for a comedy instead. I reach up and feel my hair, knowing that it is going to be a disaster today since I won’t have a chance to blow it dry before the natural curls take over. I comb my fingers through its length and twist it into a tight knot at the base of my head.
The movie is one that I haven’t seen yet and I find myself relaxing and even laughing a little. This is exactly what I need right now. It isn’t too much longer before I hear Noah’s door open and coffee girl bounces out, a little disheveled. I don’t look directly at them, but I can see from the corner of my eye that Noah gives her a small peck on the lips and then leaves his room to walk her out.
I hold onto my towel as the two of them make their way to the front door. Coffee girl gives me a wave and I offer her a smile and a wave in return. I’ll never understand how any woman could be okay with being the flavor of the week for some guy, but it isn’t my place to judge. I shrug it off and return my attention to the movie, waiting for their goodbye to be over so I can get my bag from Noah’s room.
The couch dips beside me with Noah’s weight and I feel his eyes on me.
“I’m not sure that hanging around in your towel is such a great idea, Crash,” he points out.
“It’s not my preferred outfit.” I look down at the towel that is wrapped tightly around my body. “But I didn’t really have much of a choice.” I can almost see the light-bulb moment when Noah puts the pieces together.
His head tips back and he rubs his face before turning to me. “Shit, Leah. I’m sorry. I totally forgot we put your bag in there last night.” I wave off his statement and giggle at a very funny scene in the movie.
“I’ll get it in a minute. This movie is cracking me up. It feels good to laugh.”
“Don’t rush for me,” Noah replies and I know without looking that my favorite smile is on display. His finger traces the skin on my shoulder absently and I know he doesn’t even realize he is doing it as he watches the movie and laughs along with me.
I hear my phone ringing from the bedroom and I make sure to grip my towel as I stand up. “I’m going to answer that and get dressed. I should be out from under your feet in a few minutes.”
Noah nods his head and I watch as his eyes dip down to my legs before returning to my face. He tries not to be obvious about it, but since I am studying his face it’s hard for me to miss. When our eyes meet again I lift a brow and put my hand on my hip. “I saw that.” He just shrugs a shoulder and quietly dares me to say something further. I won’t. It feels good to be desired and right now my self-esteem could use all the help it can get.
“I’ll be home around five if you want to take another shot at the videos,” I offer.
“It’s a date,” he says before putting his feet up on the table and sinking back into the couch. “There’s an extra key hanging on the hook in the kitchen. Take it in case I’m not home. Come and go as you please; my house is your house.” He stretches his arms wide like a king showing off his kingdom. I hold the hem of my towel and dip a small curtsy before stepping into his room and closing the door behind me.
Noah
I tell myself to stop being selfish. I need to man up and call the building manager about delivering the bed they owe Leah to my apartment while they work on hers. Every time I reach for the phone I find something else to distract me. To be honest, I don’t want her sleeping anywhere else.
I tap the screen on my phone and see that it is almost four. I haven’t been able to get the image of her in that towel out of my head since this morning. Waiting for her to come back has been torture but it’s only another hour. I pull some chicken out of the refrigerator and hope that she hasn’t eaten yet.
A buzz from the dryer lets me know that my sheets are finished so I grab them and take them to my room. When I hear the front door open my heartbeat speeds up. I take a moment to close my eyes and tell myself to calm down before she sees how pathetic I am.
“Noah?” she calls. I love the way my name sounds on her lips.
“Back here!” I yell as I separate the bottom sheet from the top and begin to stretch it across my mattress. I hear her footsteps approaching and she cautiously pushes the door open and peeks inside.
“Hey,” she greets me and with just that word she has my complete attention. I smile at how ridiculous I’m being. Her simple greeting shouldn’t spread through me like a wave of happiness but it does. I begin to wonder when I turned back into a fifteen year-old version of myself.
“What’s up?” I ask, trying to be nonchalant.
“I’m back early. I thought maybe you’d want to grab a bite to eat before we get started. I see you took out some chicken—what were you planning on making?” She crosses her arms and leans against my doorframe. How is it that she can look so beautiful in an old tee and jeans?
“I guess that depends on what you like.” I pull one corner of the fitted sheet over the mattress and Leah makes her way to the opposite corner and helps to slip it on. Her smile is brilliant.
“I’m not picky,” she says, moving to another corner. “If you’re cooking, I’m eating.” She pulls the sheet down and I stretch the last corner into place. I hand her one end of the top sheet and we work together to straighten it out. She tugs it to her side and I can’t resist pulling it back my way. At first she chases her end, not realizing I’m doing it on purpose, but when I do it again she raises an eyebrow. The battle is on. With a look of sheer determination she yanks the sheet out of my hand.
I regain the edge, gather as much as I can in my hand and pull. She does the same and within seconds we’re shrieking and laughing, engaged in a full tug-o-war.
I twist the sheet around my arm and dig my feet in, giving one last heave. She slides along the floor, losing ground quickly, and flips onto the bed as her shins meet the mattress. I stumble back a few steps from the slack, and then I release my end and throw my hands up in the air in victory. Leah rolls onto her back, trying to catch her breath.
“This means war, Noah,” she says between giggles. “You got me on this one but it’s not over. Just wait. I’ll get you.”
“You can try, but my skills are clearly far superior.” I stand next to where she lies on the bed and my comment earns me a light kick to my stomach. I grab her foot and she yelps with surprise. I lightly brush my fingers along the sole of her foot and she starts to squirm.
“Noah. Don’t.” She is trying to sound stern but she is clearly very ticklish and is having a hard time keeping the laughter out of her voice. She is desperate to get her foot back and I refuse to give it up. I’m so focused on driving her mad that I forget my footing. Leah jerks her leg back and I topple onto the mattress.
I land next to her, both of us laughing until we can’t breathe. The sight of her chest heaving makes me want to reach out and touch her. I roll onto my back and throw an arm over my eyes to stop myself. When we finally stop laughing we lie in silence.
“Now you’ve done it,” she says seriously. I feel her gaze on the side of my face. I turn my head to face her and our eyes meet. She smiles and I return it.
“Ms. Leah, are you threatening me?” I tease.
“It’s more like a promise.” She laughs and pokes my side with her finger.
“Haven’t had enough?” I grab her wrist and in one quick move I straddle her body. I capture her other arm and slowly raise them both above her head. I make a
‘tsk tsk’ sound as I secure both wrists in my left hand and begin to lightly run my right index finger down the sensitive skin of her wrist and arm.
“Noah,” she says seriously. She is wriggling underneath me and I smile down at her. She laughs out loud again and I almost feel guilty not warning her what that sound does to me. “Please,” she whispers and while I know it’s because I’m tickling her, I imagine how it would sound if she were asking for something else. Her breathing picks up and she is biting her bottom lip.
I want so badly to kiss her. What logic is telling me is so different from what my heart wants. I loosen my hold on her arms so that she can pull them away if she wants. She doesn’t. Instead we stay like this, my hands lightly on her wrists and our faces close enough to touch. I move my gaze from her eyes to her lips and decide that I am powerless to resist this. Just as I brush my lower lip against hers, the phone in her pocket begins to play a song.
I look up to her eyes and I know immediately who is calling her. I lift myself up and stand at the edge of the bed. The ringtone repeats and I know she’s trying to ignore it for my benefit. I reach my hand out to her and pull her up to a sitting position at the edge of the bed.
“Be strong, beautiful,” I whisper before gently pressing a kiss to her forehead. Then I do the opposite of what my heart is telling me. I take a step back and leave the room, closing the door behind me.
Leah
The phone call from Lyle was a little unexpected. That was all it took to pull me out of the moment with Noah and right back into my own personal hell. Seems I might have accidently packed something of Lyle’s in my stuff. He wants his father’s pocketknife and believes it might be in the little wooden box I used to keep at my bedside.
It’s not that he was unkind; if he had been this whole situation would be easier. If he were some kind of mean monster I would want to push him out of my life, but instead he’s the same guy I fell in love with, who one day fell out of love with me. I promised him I would look for the knife when the workers are finished in my apartment and he agreed to make the drive here to get it.
As I open the door to leave Noah’s room, I hear the sound of soft music playing in the kitchen. I follow the melody and find Noah stirring something on the stovetop and drinking a glass of white wine. There is an empty glass beside him on the counter next to the bottle, and I’m glad I’m not alone. Noah turns his head and smiles that killer smile as I move in next to him. I lean back on the counter as he pours me a glass and hands it to me.
“You okay?” he asks.
“For now,” I answer and take a long sip of the cool wine. He nods his head and returns his attention to the butter and mushrooms he is sautéing in the pan in front of him.
“Need to talk about it?”
“I’ve never had a friend that was a therapist before.” I hesitate for a minute, trying to decide what I should discuss with him and what would be better kept to myself. “You must be tired of hearing other people’s problems all day…”
“I’m a good listener,” he coaxes.
I smile at him and take another sip. “Would it be terrible if I didn’t want to talk about it? I feel like I could analyze Lyle all day and still not understand where he’s coming from.” Noah’s crooked smile causes my stomach to do a little flip.
“Actually, I think that might be for the best. I’m here to listen any time, but I hate that he gets so many of your daily thoughts.” He turns the flame down to low and uses the tongs to flip the chicken. It smells wonderful.
“Where did you learn to cook?” I put down my glass so I can hop up onto the counter. I’m really appreciating the show as he cooks with one hand and holds his wine in the other.
“My mother is an excellent cook. She taught me a few dishes and the rest I’ve perfected on my own.”
“I’ve never had a man cook for me before. This is nice. Do you want me to help?”
“Nope, I want you to sit back and relax.”
“Gladly!” I take another sip of my wine. “So tell me a little more about your study. How many couples have you worked with?”
“I’ve worked with about a hundred myself, and the other therapists have done the same. All the work is complete; I just need to code about twenty more videos. As long as we can show that there’s consistency between the people coding the videos, we should be able to move on to computing the data.” He takes two plates from the cupboard and turns off the burners.
“What will other psychologists do with the data?” I watch as he arranges the chicken and mushrooms on the plates.
“It depends on the results. Right now it looks like my hypothesis is correct. If the numbers back me up, and I’m pretty confident they will, I suppose future clinicians will stress touch in relationships.” He smiles as he lifts the plates from the counter and puts them on the table. I pick up the bottle of wine and his empty glass and follow.
We both sit down and I pour him another glass. “What will
you
do with the results?” How can he study couples every day and not have some faith that relationships can work?
“I will know that I’ve been right. It will be the validation I’ve been looking for since I came up with my theory years ago. To keep a relationship alive you have to keep touching. If you’re hoping that I’ll say I’m going to be a changed man and start looking for my happy-ever-after, you’re going to be disappointed.” He takes a bite of his dinner.
“I wouldn’t expect you to run out right away, but maybe be open to the idea that two people could work hard and hold the key to keeping the relationship intimate and connected.” I lift my fork to my mouth and the flavor explodes across my tongue. It’s fantastic.
“Maybe I don’t want to work hard.” He cuts another piece of chicken and takes a mouthful. He chews thoughtfully, swallows, and continues. “I would want a partner that would share the fight with me. I would need to know that on the days I was having a tough time giving the relationship my all, she would be there to make up the difference. I would do the same for her. What I’ve found instead is that my tough days get even harder when the woman gets resentful or contemptuous. It turns into a tit-for-tat relationship and before you know it we’re both keeping score.”
I lean back in my chair. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be that way.” I say. I hate that what he has said perfectly describes the death of my relationship with Lyle.
He sips his wine. “That’s just it. It doesn’t have to be that way. That’s the part that sucks. In the moment it’s happening you can’t see what you’re doing. Before you know it the damage has been done. No one goes into a relationship thinking they’re going to break up.” I hardly notice I have drained my glass again, but Noah stands and retrieves a new bottle.
“Noah, I’m sure you are an excellent therapist, but your personal conversations are depressing as hell.” His laughter is music to my ears as he pops the cork and pours me another glass. We finish our dinner with small talk about the university and how we each spent the day. His phone rings as we clear the table, but he silences the call and shuts down his phone. He doesn’t ask me to, but I do the same. It feels both terrifying and liberating.
It’s time to get serious about coding. We move to the living room where Noah sets up the video. It shows a couple sitting beside each other on a couch. Noah pauses it to give me instructions. “We are keeping track of how the partners respond to each other’s pain. If there is a moment when one shares something painful and the partner responds with touch, we note it. We also need to keep track of touch in general. If they walk in holding hands or let their legs brush up against each other we need to make note of it and mark the time in the video when it happens.”
He shows me a sheet of paper that has three columns. The first is labeled ‘Time,’ the second is ‘Touch’ and the third is ‘Statement.’ He tells me to note the time in the video, write a quick note to describe the touch and lastly, if something painful was shared, to note exactly what was said. “I’m keeping track of that data for future research. If I see any trends it might be interesting to study what type of shared information elicits the greatest physical contact.”
“I think I’ve got it.” I reach for the paper and he hands me the remote, as well.
“You might need to stop it or rewind it so you can get the wording correctly. I’ll code along with you and see if our notes match up.” He leans forward on the couch and grabs himself a coding sheet and pen from the table. He’s in his element now and I’m very impressed.
Since meeting Lyle, there hasn’t been a man that has made me feel like I could fall in love with anyone else, but Noah has changed that. I know he’s not interested in anything more than a friendship—I wonder if I will be okay with that in the end?—but his honesty and compassion have opened my heart and I’m grateful. Falling in love is not something any of us have control over, not even Noah. One day he’s going to fall for someone and his heart will be healed. I just hope we’re still friends when it happens so I can happily tell him I told him so.