Nora grows quiet, reserved even, but then, she says, “We really don’t know anything about each other, do we?” The way she says it isn’t negative, it’s like a declaration or reminder that maybe this won’t work, that maybe it’s all too much.
“That’s okay,” I reassure her. “We have nothing but time now. We could spend the entire night talking.” I smirk at her before I say, “Tell me everything. Your deepest fears, your biggest regrets, I want it all.”
Nora laughs and it’s like a song, perfect and beautiful, the most wonderful sound I have heard in years. It sounds exactly as it did the day I met her and it makes me weak. She’s the only girl I know who can make me feel this way and when I said those words to her all those years ago I meant them and I still mean it now.
“You’re a shithead,” she says and now it’s me who’s laughing. It’s un-fucking-believable how vivid my memory is with just a few words. I can recall almost everything she said to me that night and obviously she can, too.
“But you like me,” I tease back and this time she falls against my shoulder laughing and I wrap my arm around her. “So tell me, did you travel the world? See Amsterdam and London and all the other things you wanted to do?”
“No,” she says and I feel her softly shake her head as she lets out a long sigh. “I spent my time looking for you.”
As the words leave her mouth I feel my heart fucking shatter in my chest. Her arms are around my waist now and I can feel the warmth of her body against mine. I hate that she looked for me all that time, that she was alone and desperate to find me. I should’ve done more to find her.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. I’m not sure what more I can say. I can only show her now that I want to be here, I want to be with her.
She moves away from me, and I can’t tell how she feels, if she’s hurt by my lack of effort or embarrassed by her intensity. None of what she did or does makes me think any less of her. If anything it makes me feel inferior. It makes me regret all those years that passed when I didn’t try harder.
It’s getting late now, it’s been a few hours since we met on the street and Nora rises from the couch. I think she’s going to ask me to leave and as much as I don’t want to, I have to respect her. The situation has been overwhelming and emotionally draining, and we haven’t even scratched the surface.
“I’m tired,” she says, but extends her hand out to me. “But I want you to stay. That is if you want to?” Her last part comes out as a question and she nervously pulls her hand back as I watch her chew her bottom lip, waiting for a response.
I reach for her hand, smiling at her, weaving her fingers in mine and I see her relax at my touch. “Absolutely,” I say. “Whatever you want, Nora.”
She shows me to her extra bedroom where she pulls an extra blanket, a towel and a toothbrush from a small closet just outside the room. The room is simple and clean, and like the rest of her apartment, it’s small. I never expected her to ask me to sleep in her room, but a part of me is disappointed in that teenage boy way and I almost laugh out loud at my stupidity.
“Feel free to take a shower or whatever else you would like,” Nora says gesturing toward the small bathroom at the end of the narrow hallway.
“Thank you,” I respond, nodding my head and leaning in to give her a kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Nora.”
“Good night, Elliot.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Nora
I leave Elliot in my extra bedroom and retreat to mine. I didn’t know if I should ask him to stay with me, as in sleep in my bed, or if that would’ve come across far too forward. But now it feels awkward and even a little bit lonely.
I hear the rumble of the pipes as the shower starts up and I immediately think of Alice. How she used to shower late at night and how the groan of the old pipes would wake me out of sleep, annoying me, but now I find comfort in the sound, like it gives me hope I won’t be alone forever.
I should text Alice and tell her what’s going on, but a part of me wants to keep this to myself even if it’s just for a short while. I want to remember what it felt like to be with Elliot, to have him to myself without any outside pressures or opinions, to have it just be us.
I fall back on my bed and stare up at the ceiling as the ceiling fan spins round, the sound as soothing as the sound of the shower. I watch it spin, sinking into the softness of my white down duvet and I’m overcome with a strange sense of calm, something I haven’t felt in forever. Something I haven’t felt since that night on the beach with Elliot. I close my eyes and let the feeling linger, the feeling that I’m finally not plagued with the need to find someone, the need to keep searching and the constant feeling of anxiety. It’s finally over.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but the shower is off and my house is quiet once again. I stand taking off my jeans and shirt, leaving just a tank top and my underwear on as I walk toward the door. I haven’t washed my face or brushed my teeth, but I pause at the door listening for the sound of Elliot moving. Hearing nothing I open the door just as he’s leaving the bathroom.
I stop dead in the doorway, not even aware of my attire considering he’s standing only a few feet away from me, shirtless with a towel wrapped around his waist. He looks amazing, better than I could’ve ever imagined and he makes me weak. I’m pretty sure I’ve stopped breathing as I watch Elliot look me up and down and then swallow hard. He quickly looks away and apologizes, yet neither one of us moves. We’re standing motionless, but then he looks back at me and I see in his eyes all the desire and need I saw all those years ago on the beach.
For a few seconds we’re suspended in the silence of the room, and then he’s the first to step toward me, but he stops. The tension fills the room, exuding from each of us, waiting for someone to make the first move.
My heart is racing, my body aches for him to touch me, and I long to run my fingers down his chest, to feel every part of him. My hand grips the doorway as my legs feel like they’ll no longer hold me up, and that’s when Elliot murmurs my name and walks toward me.
Stopping in front of me his breathing is labored as I watch his chest rise and fall quickly. Neither of us is composed and right now, something needs to happen because the room feels like it might explode.
There’s a second of breathlessness between us and without hesitation my lips crash into his, our mouths colliding in desperation and hunger. I moan against his lips and his tongue slips gently along mine, and I can’t help but press my body closer to his. I feel Elliot’s hands gripping my hips and they begin to run up the sides of my body taking the hem of my tank with them. I pull back, my arms above my head as Elliot pulls my tank off and tosses it aside. Immediately my hands are back on his body, running down the length of his warm muscular chest. The warmth spreads through me making my body feel like it’s on fire, like every single nerve is responding, screaming with need in ways I never imagined. I’ve never felt this way with anyone—anyone other than Elliot.
I feel his lips on my neck and down to my collarbone as his tongue glides gently over my skin. It’s warm everywhere his mouth touches and I moan out loud as his hand cups my breast. Elliot reaches behind me, undoing my bra and it falls between us as it slips off my arms, and my hands tug at his towel. With my arms around his waist, I pull him toward my bed, both of us stumbling in an attempt to get there without taking our hands off each other.