Noah

My room feels small and my bed too large.

I tossed and turned last night, unable to stop thinking about Brazen. Our kisses, the way his eyes had felt on me when I stood naked on that stage, his genuine reaction when I opened up to him. I’d fretted over the plan for the entire day while Brazen was out of the office, but I had known I had to put myself out there. He would be worth the jump.

My imagination hadn’t given what actually happened any justice.

When I think about him this morning, as sunlight peeks through my windows . . .

My nails rake up my skin.

I grow wet between my legs as my memory replays last night.

My breathing hitches when my fingers dip below my panty line and find my clit.

I moan into my free hand.

I pretend it’s Brazen’s hand on me.

My fingers rotate against my wetness. My reserve dulls, and my pleasure intensifies. I imagine Brazen lying atop me with intense eyes and working me up. Everything about the way he looks at me tells me how beautiful I am. His eyes display his want, and he voices those needs with his lips. It’s the same way he looked at me as he painted me. I slide a finger inside me and continue to stimulate myself with my thumb. I find a rhythm, and soon, my leg muscles are locking up. I’m biting the skin of my palm to keep from calling out. Internally, I scream Brazen’s name as I come. My knees go weak, and I go lax within my sheets.

Good morning, Noah!

That is definitely a great start to my day.

Brush teeth.

Shower.

Breakfast.

Final touches.

I rush through my morning routine in order to get to the office, to get to Brazen.

Once I arrive, I find I’m alone again with Sunday.

“Morning!” I exclaim after busting into the office.

“Do you have an off button for that chipperness?” Sunday drones.

“Not a morning person?” I ask, taking a seat at my desk.

“No, not particularly. Maybe in my next life.”

I leave Sunday to her coffee and let her wake up while I attend to my paperwork. But, within a few minutes, a middle-aged woman walks through the office door, and I stand to greet her. Sunday beats me to it. She passes by me and envelops the woman in a hug. As they pull apart, I know exactly who this woman is.

Blue swirled with green. Her eyes match Brazen’s.

The woman, who I am sure is Brazen’s mom, looks my way.

“Well, you’re such a beautiful young thing. What’s your name, sweetie?” she asks while coming closer.

Sunday answers before I can speak for myself, “This is our new assistant, Noah. Noah, this is Beth, Brazen’s mom.”

Yeah, I called that one.

I step forward. “It’s great to meet you, Mrs. Hale.”

“Please call me Beth. I hate formality, and I’ve never been a Mrs.”

I smile at the woman who holds such a motherly presence.

“Okay, Beth.”

She rushes forward and throws her arms around me. “How do you like your new job? Are my kids treating you well?” she asks as she releases me from a hug.

Sunday comes to stand beside us, wearing a smirk that holds secrets.

“Everything has been great so far, and I couldn’t have asked for better bosses.”

“Sit down, Beth. I’ll get you some coffee. Brazen should be in soon.” Sunday offers Beth her chair and disappears into the kitchen.

I take my seat back at my own desk. Before Sunday can return, Brazen walks in.

“Mom! What are you doing here?” There is nothing but affection in Brazen’s question as he moves to greet his mom. He leans down and kisses her cheek.

“Can’t I come to visit my kids? You both have been so busy lately. Even Sunday has been worse than you, and she usually remembers to text me.”

“Sorry, Mom,” both Sunday and Brazen say in unison as Sunday hands Beth a mug.

I’m biting my lip as Brazen turns from his mother and approaches me. When he’s close, he reaches out and brushes his finger against my bottom lip, halting me from worrying it between my teeth. He then ducks down and seals his mouth against mine for a tender, quick kiss … right in front of his mother.

A blush heats my face, and I lightly push off his advance. He just smirks at me, and Sunday shakes her head behind Beth’s back. I look for the reaction from the woman both my bosses call Mom, but she gives nothing away.

“Mom, this is Noah,” Brazen says while taking my hand.

“Noah and I are old friends. We’ve met, but it seems I didn’t realize who she was to you. Would you like to fill me in, my sweet boy?”

Brazen sits on the edge of my desk while he talks to his mom and continues to hold my hand. “Noah is someone I’m getting to know.” He keeps his answer vague.

Part of me is relieved because it’s way too soon to be meeting his mom, but on the other hand, it’s really way too soon for him to be kissing me in front of her.

“I can see that. Are you two getting to know each other seriously?” Beth pushes for more detail.

I attempt to take my hand from Brazen’s, but he tightens his hold.

Sunday moves through the room and takes a seat at Brazen’s desk. “Do you remember the time Brazen stole the neighbor’s dog and tried to hide Bugsy in his closet, but the dog wouldn’t stop barking?” She saves us, but Brazen doesn’t seem grateful as he groans.

Beth laughs and looks over at her son in a way that tells me her child is her whole world.

“I was six, and Mom wouldn’t get me a dog,” he explains.

The same age I was when my mom gave me away, and I thought it was because I had gone outside to chase a cat.

“How about the time his lawn business almost turned into a pyramid scheme?” Beth throws out, which makes Sunday crack up laughing.

I find myself smiling from ear to ear. He drops his face into his free hand. This is a story I want to hear.

“What’s your excuse for that one, Brazen?” I ask.

“That one, I don’t really have an excuse for. Let’s call it an adolescent indiscretion.”

“Teenage indiscretion? Mrs. Grim wanted to call the cops on you, and you were cutting free lawns for a year after that!” Sunday adds.

“Yeah, yeah. I see what’s going on here. Go ahead, ladies. Embarrass me.” His smile says he doesn’t really mind though.

His mom turns to me and smiles. “How much time do you have?”

“For this? I have about as much time as you need. Lay it on me, and don’t hold back.” I get comfortable, ready to soak in as much about Brazen as I can. Who better to hear from to really see who he is than his mom?

“One time, when Brazen and Sunday were about eight, he convinced her that she could fly if she rollerbladed down the slide of the playground in our neighborhood. He helped her get an accelerated start and then watched as she coasted down at an outrageous speed. When she got to the end of the slide, she hit the ground so hard, she broke her arm.”

“Oh no!” I glance toward Sunday, feeling sympathy but also trying to hold in my laughter.

She must have really trusted him to believe that story. That is, until she hit the ground.

“Later, when I asked him where he had gotten this idea from, he said a boy at school had told him, but he didn’t believe it. So, he wanted Sunday to be his gerbil.” Beth beams with love as she talks about them.

Brazen and Sunday both laugh at the old story I’m sure they have heard a hundred times.

“Gerbil?” What does the little rodent have to do with anything? Gerbils can’t fly either.

“He meant, guinea pig,” Beth clarifies.

The banter continues, and Brazen takes it well. He sits back while the two women in his life playfully throw him under the bus. He takes it all in stride, and I enjoy every minute of it. There is a whole lot of love between them.

A bit of sadness pulls at my heartstrings. I don’t have people like this in my life to share old memories with. Not that many of my memories are good ones, but that isn’t the point. I’m happy that Brazen does, so I quickly push the envy away.

“Thank you for humoring your lonely mom. You kids need to come over for dinner soon. I’ve missed you, and, Noah, I’ll be expecting you, too,” Beth says as she gives hugs before she leaves.

“Of course. Thank you. It was so great meeting you,” I say in my most polite voice.

Brazen wraps his arms around me as his mom leaves. Once the door closes behind her, I playfully elbow him in the side.

“Ouch. What was that for?” He feigns an injury.

“Oh, you deserve much worse than that tiny jab, Brazen.” Sunday laughs. “If I were Noah and you’d just kissed me in front of your mother when she had no idea about me, you’d have been rubbing a lump over your head.”

“Wasn’t I punished enough with that whole walk down memory lane?”

“I’m out. I’m going to look at that place on Fourth Street. You two behave.” Sunday rushes out the door before either of us has time to say bye, and for the first time today, I’m alone with Brazen.

“Hi,” he says while moving closer.

“Hi,” I say back.

“I missed you.” He takes me into his arms and kisses the top of my head.

“Is it crazy that I missed you, too, and it’s only been about twelve hours?”

“Well, I don’t find it crazy, but that might be because we’re in the same boat.”

He pulls back, and his lips hover over mine for just a second before he kisses me. This kiss is nothing like the affectionate one he gave me in front of his mother. It’s the kind of kiss that curls your toes and causes the hair on your neck to rise. His tongue breaches my mouth, and his soft lips caress mine. I’m light on my feet when he pulls back.

“I’ll be right back.” Brazen leaves the office but returns in about a minute.

I know what he went to get because I can see it in his hand.

“I’m selfish, so I’m keeping this, but we were so caught up last night that we left this behind at the center. I went back this morning to pick it up.”

The painting. The one he did of me last night.

He holds it up, and I fight the tears threatening to leak from my eyes.

“It’s amazing.” I touch the dried paint.

I look so incredibly vulnerable, unrestrained, and unburdened.

“Is this how you see me?”

“Noah, I wouldn’t be able to capture the true way I see you, but this is pretty damn close. You are so much more though.”

It’s a pretty incredible feeling to understand even a fraction of how someone else views you. Especially when it’s someone who seems to think the world of you. I will forever try to see myself through the eyes of the person who created this painting.

Brazen.

He sees me in a way that every woman hopes to feel about herself.

Is it too early to say I’m head over heels?

Too much, too soon? Too bad because it’s so true.