Page 17 of Spell Ya Later

Yep, I definitely asked for bread too enthusiastically. Although, really, is there such a thing as too much enthusiasm for bread?

Especially garlic bread.

Noah shifts in his chair, a hint of nervousness showing through. “Okay, I have a serious question for you.”

Uh oh.

“Shoot.”

“Pineapple on pizza. Delicious or sin against God?” The corner of his mouth ticks upward and warmth fills my chest. He smiles in this easy way that speaks of a purity I don’t know if I’ve ever experienced. Not since Dad died, at least.

“I wouldn’t say it’s a sin against God, but it’s definitely not my first choice. And you? Delicious or sin against God?”

He shrugs. “Trick question. It’s only okay if you pair it with jalapenos for that sweet and spicy kick.”

A small, genuine laugh escapes me. “Noted.”

“Have we looked at our menus?” The waiter returns, turning our attention from each other. I miss the way his gaze feels on me. I miss the eyes that have haunted me for months.

I watch him as he orders, not paying attention to what he’s saying. I’m surprised by how easy it is to be with him. I’m awkward as usual, sure, but there’s something comforting about being around Noah. Something safe. Familiar.

I order too, and the waiter leaves with a smile.

“Tell me a story,” I blurt out. There are all these little pieces that make Noah who he is, and for some reason I want to collect all of them.

He quirks one of his bushy eyebrows. “A story?”

“A story.” I push my hair behind my ear. “Something about you.”

He sighs, scrubbing at his stubble. “Okay. This isn’t a story, but, I don’t like bars. I realize we met in one, but I was basically forced out. I much prefer being a homebody.”

“I hate them, too. My sister, Laura, forced me into it using familial guilt. I would much rather be home sketching.” Or would I? Maybe that’s just what I’ve been conditioned to think. I cough. “What do you do when you’re being a homebody?”

“No judgment?” He asks, nervous smile wavering just a touch.

“Never.” I pause. “Well, unless you torture people or something. Then I’ll judge you a little.”

He levels me with a mock glare, brown eyes flashing with mischief. “No torturing. I’m a bit of a nerd, actually. I collect and build minis forWarhammer.”

I have quite literally no idea what that means, and it must be obvious because Noah chuckles a bit. His curls bounce with the laughter.

“It’s okay if you don’t know what I’m talking about,” he continues. “It’s a relatively niche hobby.”

I prop my chin on the palms of my hands. “Tell me all about it.”

The surprise in his eyes makes my chest tighten. Maybe no one has ever expressed interest in his hobbies either. Maybe we have more in common than I expected.

“Okay.” His smile is bright, almost overpowering his face. “Yeah, I can do that.”

It’s notthat I doubt sex could ever be as good as this pasta, but how good could sex really be? Sex wishes it was as good as pasta. This pasta specifically. Creamy alfredo, moist chicken, and perfectly tender noodles. I’m in heaven.

“I’m glad you like it,” Noah says, breaking the comfortable silence. Both of us were far too enraptured by dinner arriving to continue the pleasant conversation.

I lift a brow at him as I finish chewing my food. “What makes you think I like it?”

“I like to think I can tell when a woman is enjoying herself...” he trails off and wow, was I unprepared for that. “You’re also making pretty positive noises.”

“Whoops.” I smile sheepishly. My heart beats unevenly with every second of uninterrupted eye contact.