“It’s nice to be waited on for once,” Ray commented, her chin propped up in the palm of her hand.
Elvis’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” began to play as I glanced over my shoulder.
“Well, get used to it,” I replied with a grin.
“Oh, I will. Especially if you insist on doing it shirtless. That’s even more appreciated.”
I turned off the stove; loaded our plates with fresh, hot food; and brought them to the table. Ray couldn’t have looked happier at the sight of a meal she hadn’t had to cook, and I made a silent vow to cook for her more often. Or, hell, all the time, if she’d let me.
Steam billowed from both our plates, the food too hot to eat, and with Elvis encouraging me to do something else I remembered Grampa doing with Gramma, I scooped Ray’s hand in mine and pulled her from the table.
Then, we danced. And I knew I wasn’t good at it—I’d never danced with a girl before, unless you counted Gramma—but that didn’t matter when she smiled at me and I sang those infamous words to her, and we were both so wrapped up in the moment that neither of us heard the front door opening.
“Hey, honey, we’re—”
“Hey, Mom! I’m—”
Two voices began to speak at once, and both stopped abruptly at the sight of Ray and me dancing in her kitchen. She spun away from me quickly, startled by the intrusion, then clapped her hands to her chest and laughed, beside herself.
“Oh my God, you guys scared me!” she exclaimed as Noah and Ray’s mother walked warily toward us.
Noah’s eyes were on me the whole time. A look of betrayal heavy in his darkened gaze.
“What are you guys doing?” he asked accusingly, putting his hands on the back of Ray’s chair and eyeing the plates of food.
“We were actually about to sit down and eat,” his mom replied, acting like the moment wasn’t heavy with suspicion.
I cleared my throat, suddenly self-conscious of not having a shirt on. It wasn’t like Noah hadn’t seen me shirtless before—I had no shame, and it was my preference when doing work on the house or yard—but right now, in this setting … I might as well have been naked.
“Would you guys like any? There’s some left on the stove,” I said, gesturing toward the pans.
“I’d love some. It smells great in here,” Ray’s mom said with a smile that was growing more aware by the second. “But first, Ray, can I talk to you for a minute?”
The tone of her voice said this was a conversation meant to be had alone, and with the quickly shot glances in my direction, I had a feeling I knew what—or who—it would be about.
Ray threw an apologetic look in my direction before ushering her mother down the hall to the bedroom I had just spent the night in. But the thing about our houses—hers and mine—was, they weren’t very big, and the soundproofing wasn’t the most efficient. And although she and her mother whispered, in the quiet enveloping the rest of the house, I could easily make out bits and pieces of their hushed conversation.
“… sure … this?”
“… don’t … worry … good person.”
“I … know … you’re right … but … prison … past.”
I rolled my lips between my teeth, staring at the plates of food growing colder by the second on the table. Then, I noticed Noah with his hands still clamped on the back of the chair. The kid wasn’t a toddler, nor was he an idiot. He knew what was going on, and if I was going to stay in his good graces—and, dammit, I wanted to—I had to smooth things over. Make sure he was okay. Get his blessing or some shit.
“Hey.”
He hardly lifted his gaze to mine. “What?” The bite in his tone nearly made me flinch.
“I think they’re talking about me,” I whispered, keeping my voice low.
Noah barely nodded. “Yeah.”
“Good things, I hope.”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
Stop beating around the damn bush. “Hey, um … I hope you’re okay with …” I threw a hand toward the hallway. “You know … your mom and me. I just”—I took that hand and gripped the back of my neck with it—“I like her a lot. And we … I don’t know if you know this, but we kinda go way back, and—”
Noah shut me up by abruptly lifting his head and meeting my gaze. “Why wouldn’t I be okay with you dating my mom?”
“I … well, um … I don’t really know. I just thought—”
“You should’ve told me,” he spat out, shining light on the depth of his betrayal. “It wouldn’t have made me mad. I dunno why you didn’t just tell me.”
I imagined the situation from his point of view. Walking in on your friend, shirtless and slow dancing with your mother. It wasn’t that he didn’t give us his blessing. It was that he hated being left in the dark.
“I’m sorry, buddy.”
“Whatever,” he grumbled, dropping his glare back to the table. “You probably never wanted to be my friend anyway. You just wanted Mom.”
“Hey.” I pushed off the counter and hurried to drop into the chair beside where he stood. I looked ahead at him and his downcast gaze. “Look at me for a second.”
He could only flick his eyes in my direction before looking away again. Maybe I should’ve put on a shirt before deciding to talk to him.
“Even if your mom wasn’t in the picture, I would still be your friend. You understand me?”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious right now, Noah. You were the first person in this town to really see me for who I am, and I will never forget that.”
He shrugged and rolled his eyes away.
“Man, you’re the coolest kid I’ve ever known, and you’re my best pal. Nothing’s changing that, okay?”
Seconds ticked by, and Noah remained stone-faced. Ray and her mom finally emerged from her room, announcing happily that they were ready to eat. But instead of doing the gentlemanly thing and making Ray’s mother a plate, I continued to watch Noah, waiting for his response.
Had I really fucked this up so bad, simply by being with his mom? I wouldn’t take back a second of last night, not for anything. But was it so impossible to have both his friendship and Ray’s affection? Was I too greedy to expect that I could?
He eyed me warily, studying my every move. Defensive and aware. His eyes flicked toward his mother, already beginning to casually eat, like nothing out of the ordinary was going on. He swallowed, and I realized he was shaking. His hands trembled in fists at his sides, and another revelation hit me. One I knew well.
He’s scared. He’s afraid he can’t protect her.
Noah had never known his mother to be with a man who didn’t hurt her. He had witnessed it probably more times than I could even imagine. God, I couldn’t even pretend to know what that kid must’ve seen—but I had seen my own share of shit regarding my own mother. I had felt helpless more times than I could count, I had felt desperate and hopeless, constantly trying to find ways to make it better, and the last thing in the world I wanted to do was make him feel the same way.