Two days have passed since the ‘Noah incident,’ as I’m calling it in my mind. I refuse to admit to myself we had sex. I’m going to float around in self-denial for a little longer. Noah was a lesson I needed to learn, for whatever reason I’m not sure. Clearly the last four years with a broken heart haven’t taught me a damn thing because I let him put his penis inside me less than forty-eight hours ago.

Yesterday, my dad had me here from eight o’clock in the morning until four o’clock in the afternoon which meant I didn’t see Noah. He trains after he gets off work each day and he hasn’t been able to quit his full-time job because he needs the benefits it provides. I know from conversations with my dad, Noah wants to be training full time and if he wins this upcoming fight, he’ll be able to. He’ll gain sponsors and even possibly some product endorsements. The financial payout could potentially be more money than he would know what to do with.

Maybe it will be enough to help him lose the giant chip on his shoulder. I know he has a lot to prove to himself, but I’m not sure why. I know surprisingly little about his life, only what he chose to share with me. Back then, I was too young to push for more.

Glancing at the clock I notice it’s almost five. Rising from my office chair, I walk the few steps it takes to open my door. I toe the wooden wedge under the bottom to hold it in place and return to my seat. I’m pathetic. I flush embarrassed at my own behavior. This is about the time Noah arrives here each day after he gets off work. Since I didn’t get to see him yesterday, I’m not sure what to expect. Will he pop in to see how I’m doing? Will he at least stick his head in for a quick hello? Maybe he’ll ignore me and act like nothing happened. No matter what, I want to at least see him walk by. The back view of him looks just as good as the front.

Worst case, I’ll see him at some point before I leave. Fridays are one of the late nights I work, staying until closing. It’s not as bad as it sounds. I’ll be out of here at ten p.m.

My thoughts flash back to what happened Wednesday night. Do I want a repeat, tonight? Maybe. God knows, I’ve already replayed every detail a hundred times in my mind. It was undeniably hot and extremely satisfying.

Time to get your head out of the clouds and focus on work, I remind myself. Burying my nose in financial reports, I lose track of anything else. The rap of knuckles on the inside of my door, has my head popping up. “Huh?” I ask, my head lost in a sea of numbers.

Noah stands in my doorway, a smile on his face and a paper bag in his hand. “I didn’t say anything yet,” he tells me.

I shake my head. “Sorry, my brain was lost in financial reports.”

Stepping through the entrance of my office, his feet are silent on the carpet as he walks over to stand in front of my desk. He places the paper bag down on the wooden surface. “I brought you dinner. I stopped at Arroyo’s and grabbed you some chicken quesadillas. I remember how much you used to love going there.”

Wow. My eyes skirt from him to the brown bag and back to him again. I’m speechless, a phenomenon that doesn’t happen very often with me. Noah’s the only one who’s ever made me feel off balance enough to lose my train of thought. I can’t believe he grabbed me dinner at Arroyo’s. That’s the same restaurant he took me to on our first date and over the six months we were together, it became one of our ‘places.’

“Thank you. This is so nice of you. It’s perfect timing. I’m starving and I was trying to figure out what I wanted for dinner,” I ramble at a loss for what to say. His thoughtfulness is unbelievably sweet and appreciated, but not necessarily wanted. I’d prefer he not cloud things between us with sweet gestures.

“Good. Glad to help.” He glances at the black military style watch on his wrist. “I’ll see you later. I need to get in the gym before I’m late and your father takes it out on my ass.”

I smile. “He loves to do that. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”

“Right.” He flashes a quick grin. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Sounds good.”

I watch his ass all the way out the door, my eyes locked on the target until he disappears. Dammit. Fanning my face, I blow out a large exhale at the same time.

Grabbing the paper bag, I slide it over in front of me and remove the Styrofoam container of quesadillas. They’re so hot, steam rises from them. My mouth waters at how delicious they look. Hot or not, I can’t stop myself from taking a large bite of the spicy treat.  I haven’t eaten at Arroyo’s since we broke up. Going there without him would have been too painful for me. It was easier to avoid all the places we frequented together.

The end of my shift inevitably comes and with it a hundred last minute things to do. By the time I’m finally locking up my office, I’m convinced Noah’s gone for the night. I don’t want to think about why this disappoints me.  

After giving the gym a once over for any stragglers, I step outside and lock the door behind me. Spinning around to face the parking lot, I notice Noah straddling his bike. He’s parked next to my old Kia. I can’t hold in the smile that takes over my face. I’m happy to see him, whether I want to be or not. Right now, I don’t want to pretend I hate him. Maybe it’s because he brought me dinner - or maybe it’s because he gave me the orgasm of my life two nights ago. Whatever the reason, being nice seems like my best option.

“What are you still doing here?” I ask, pausing between his bike and my vehicle.

“I wanted to make sure you got to your car safely.” He smiles, then reaches out and hooks an arm around my waist. He reels me in closer, pressing his hand on my back, urging me forward until I’m standing next to him. “Do you want to come over?” He peers at me, looking unsure of himself for a second, before he hides it behind a cocky smile. The flash of uncertainty is gone so quick, I wonder if I imagined it.

“Do you want me to?” I question. I’m going to make him spell out what he wants. There’ll be no reading into things for this girl. I’m taking it all at face value.

He rakes his teeth over his bottom lip and nods his head. “I do. When have you ever known me to ask someone to do something I didn’t want?”

I raise an eyebrow. “It’s been forever since you and I spent any real time together. I’d never assume to know anything about you.”

“Well, some things never change. I’m still the same man I was then,” he says to reassure me, but his words have the opposite effect. They’re the perfect reminder of what kind of man he is. He’s the heartbreaking type and I cannot let history repeat itself. ‘Use him and lose him,’ should be my motto when it comes to Noah. “What do you think?” he asks.

“About?” I tip my head.

“Coming over. Can I talk you into watching a movie with me?”

“Is movie code for porn?”

He barks out a laugh. “No, not at all. Not unless you want it to be.”

I giggle. “No thanks.”

“No thanks to coming over or no thanks to watching a porn?”

I roll my eyes. “No thanks to the porn, but I’ll come over.”

I follow behind him, paying close attention as he handles his bike capably, leaning into each curve he takes. I’d say I’ve always been a sucker for guys who have motorcycles, but he’s the only one I’ve ever dated who had one. Yep, I guess I’m just a sucker for Noah Nolan on a motorcycle.

I’ve never been to his place before, not even in the past. For whatever reason, he never brought me home and I just accepted it as the status quo. Being with Noah had been worth any idiosyncrasies I’d dealt with. He was always closed mouth about his home life. Both of us lived for the moment and focused on the present. Each day together was better than the last. I envisioned the rest of my life with him by my side - making each moment matter. Boy was I wrong.

He signals, pulling into the driveway of a small, white ranch house and I do the same. He rolls past his jeep and parks close in front of the unattached garage. A couple of motion sensitive lights kick on in addition to the spotlight mounted to the side of his front door.

He cuts the engine and agilely climbs off. He removes his helmet and fishes his keys out of his front pocket.

I park behind his jeep, grabbing only my keys and phone to bring inside. He meets me next to the stone walkway that runs to the front door and forks off to the left, leading to a side deck. My eyes scan the front yard, noting the well-groomed grass and hedges. There are red and white flowers in a planter on the front stoop. I wonder if he planted those or if he has a woman in his life to do those things for him. Jealousy burns low in my belly at the thought of anyone else touching Noah. However misplaced I know this feeling is, it certainly doesn’t negate it.

We take the second stone path and he gestures for me to precede him up the steps leading to the large deck. His boots thud against the dark stained wood as we make our way to the side entrance. Opening the storm door first, he holds it with his left hip as he unlocks the black steel one.

“Go ahead,” he says, ushering me in front of him. Stepping over the threshold into the dimly lit entryway, I’m engulfed by the scent of Noah as it comes pleasantly rushing into my nostrils. Mm, he smells so good. It’s different that the scent he used to wear - more manly and outdoorsy somehow. It fits him to a T as if it was tailor made for him. This scent is such an aphrodisiac to me, it makes me want to strip my clothes off and lay down on the large gray area rug in the middle of his living room. I want him on me - in me - any way that I can have him.

Why does he still have such a powerful effect on me? How can years of despising someone be wiped out so easily and with so little effort on his part?

“Can I use your bathroom?” I quickly ask. I need a break from all the pheromones floating in the air. Dammit. This place should come with a warning. ‘Stepping over this threshold can bring out the urge to tear your clothes off and do wicked things. Enter at your own risk.’

“Sure, it’s the first door on the left,” he says gesturing down a hallway.

Pressing my lips together in a brief closed lipped smile, I hurry toward the door he pointed out. Once I’m inside, I sit down on the closed toilet lid and drop my head to my knees. Why do I suddenly feel so weird about being here? Is it because I’m hoping for a repeat of the other night? Or is it because he’s showing me a side of him he never did before?

And why am I pathetically imagining it means anything beyond wanting us to hang out? His invite over wasn’t meant to be symbolic of anything. He just wanted company and maybe to get his dick wet. Ok, definitely to get his dick wet.

Rising, I move to the vanity and study myself in the mirror. My hazel eyes blink back at me, but I don’t even resemble myself. My cheeks are flushed pink and there’s an excited sparkle to my eyes that’s been missing for the past four years. I hate that he’s the one who put it there, but just the same, it’s nice to know it still exists. Maybe someday I’ll meet someone who’ll realize they can have a successful career and a relationship at the same time. The two are not mutually exclusive. I’m not sure why Noah’s always assumed it was so. I never would have made him choose between fighting and me.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asks, meeting me at the end of the hallway. He gestures with his head for me to follow and leads me into a modern kitchen. “I have water, soda, beer,” he says opening the stainless-steel fridge. My eyes study the black tattoo peeking out from the bottom of his short sleeve. I haven’t been able to forget what it looked like since the day I saw him in only a towel. The tattoo starts on his shoulder and moves down to just above his elbow, then wraps completely around his arm. I’m not sure what it means. “I have milk and juice also,” he pulls me out of my daydream. Removing a bottle of water, he twists off the cap and takes a large gulp as I walk over to him. I watch the muscles in his throat as he swallows. I notice the dark stubble of hair on his neck, below his chin and along his jawline. It grows in much thicker and darker than it used to. I fight the urge to run my fingertips over the two-day growth or scratch my nails along the tiny hairs, to explore the texture.

Peering over his arm into the open fridge, I say, “I’d love a Coke.”

He grabs one from the top shelf, handing it to me. “Would you like a glass?” He asks as he closes the door.

“No thanks.” I wave my hand dismissively. “No reason to be fancy just for my sake.”

He smiles. “I was going to give you a red solo cup, not a crystal glass.”

“Oh,” I giggle.

He opens and closes a few different cabinets, adds some almonds to a bowl and gives me a chin lift in the direction of his living room. “Make yourself at home,” he tells me, but when I bend my knees, lowering down to sit, he stops me. “Anywhere but there. That’s my seat,” he says, flashing me a quick grin.

“Okay. You don’t have company very often do you?” I ask as I take the seat at the other end of the couch. I kick my flip flops off before wedging myself into the corner. Facing where he sits, I stretch my legs out in front of me until they’re on the cushion next to his thigh.

“Just the guys, and you know how that goes.” He smiles sheepishly. I do know. After growing up with my father and being around his crew of fighters for most of my life, I know manners are often nonexistent or take a backseat. They don’t mean to be rude. They’re not used to being in female company unless they’re banging them.

“Oh yeah, I know all too well. Even my dad can be a damn Neanderthal sometimes. I don’t know how my mom puts up with him.”  

He stretches his arm out, offering me the bowl of almonds, but I shake my head. “I’m still full from the quesadillas you brought me. Thanks again, by the way. It was really nice of you.”

“It’s the least I can do for all the media hell you’ve been dealing with.”

So that’s why. I knew there had to be a reason for his unexpected gesture. Why am I so disappointed to learn there was? Do I want him to do things for me because he cares about me? That’s never going to happen.

Resting the side of my face against the padded back of the couch, I close my eyes. I’m tired. Tired of guarding my heart. Tired of keeping up walls. If only things were different.

I don’t like where my thoughts have gone. Thinking about Noah as anything but a fun time is dangerous territory. I can’t let my history with him cloud things. He’s not going to and I’ll be the only one at the end of the day whose heart is shattered all over again. And this time, there will be no coming back.

One heartbreak from Noah is more than enough.