Enough about Dakota.
“You have to watch it,” Nora insists.
I half agree with her. “I might.” I don’t know if I even have time to watch a TV show between school and work and Nora and Tessa and Hardin and Dakota and my mom and baby sister and Ken.
Between her fingers Nora rolls a paper straw-wrapper. “What shows do you watch?”
I tell her that I’ve been watching whatever Tessa watches lately. Nora sits down at the table closest to me and tells me that I’m doing myself a disservice by not watching Game of Thrones. She tells me that she loves to hate-watch the Bachelor shows. I tell her, truthfully, that I’ve never seen an episode. I see the stars’ faces plastered on the gossip magazines, all lined up in the magazine kiosks that I pass on the way to class, but I couldn’t tell you any of their names. She tells me that someone named JoJo is a fool for sending home a cowboy from Texas last week.
I listen to Nora talk and decide that I like the way her words feel as they fill my ears. She talks with her hands, and so gracefully that I don’t ever want her to stop talking. She’s one of those people who take words and make them important. She gives them a meaning they couldn’t even dream of having without her lips giving them life.
“So, how about you?” she asks finally, and I can’t even remember what she was going on about. I was too focused on her animation and how full of words she is to hear what she actually said.
“Um . . .” I fumble with my words, pushing my memory to do me a solid.
“Plans for tonight?” she asks, half-smiling.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I shrug. “I’m not sure yet. Hardin’s here in town until Monday.”
She nods. “I know.”
“So I guess it depends on what Hurricane Hessa is doing.”
Nora smiles at this, and I notice she has another straw wrapper in her hand. The way it’s folded, it’s like a sword, and two small piles of sugar are on the table. Nora’s holding an empty brown-sugar packet in her hand. I recognize the sugar hills from the day I first met Posey’s little sister, Lila. A piece of napkin is stuck in the top of one pile, folded like a flag, just like the last time.
It has to be Nora who made them before. How did I not notice she was here?
“Tessa has to work all night,” Nora says. She cups her hand at the edge of the table and swipes away her little fortress.
I leave my rag on the table and walk to the bar. Lifting the partition, I grab a small trash can and carry it over to her. She shakes her hands over the plastic bin and wipes them across my apron.
“I wanted to take you somewhere,” Nora says, her voice low.
“I want to go somewhere,” I respond immediately.
I look at her. She looks at me.
I clear my throat. “I mean, I want to go with you, wherever you want to take me.”
Nora asks where the broom is and doesn’t say anything else about where she wants to take me.
chapter
Nine
SO, DO I HAVE TIME to change before we go to this place?” I ask Nora as I clock out. Posey is standing in the break room, tying her apron. Lila isn’t with her today, so I hope that means her grandma’s health is improving. Posey smiles at us as we leave, and I’m happy to know that Cree, the newest employee at Grind, is coming to relieve Aiden in an hour. Posey can tolerate Aiden better than anyone else, but Cree is much more pleasant.
Nora’s eyes rake over my stained gray T-shirt. “Nope. No time to change.”
I follow Nora out the door and onto the sidewalk. The sun is out today. It’s not warm, but it’s not as chilly as it will be tonight. September weather in New York is my favorite—hockey season and good weather, what more can I ask for? To be honest, I haven’t watched any games so far this season. It’s different now that Ken’s not around. We watched the games together. Sports were the bricks that built our father-son relationship. Well, the closest thing to a father-son relationship I’ve ever had.
“I want to give you the proper welcome to Brooklyn. Have you been to Juliette in Williamsburg? Or the flash-frozen-ice-cream place?”
I shake my head. I haven’t done much of anything since I moved here. I’ve walked and jogged around my neighborhood plenty, but I haven’t been inside many places or looked for the cool hangouts. Who would I go with, anyway? Tessa is too busy working, and I haven’t had the chance to make any friends here yet. No one on campus talks to me much. Every once in a while I get a random person asking me for directions, but that’s it. Washington Central University would probably have been the same if Tessa hadn’t introduced herself to me.
“I haven’t heard of either,” I say, which seems to make Nora pleased and eager to take me wherever she has planned.
“Where were you going last night? When I followed you?” I ask while we wait for the light to change.
She laughs. “Well, straight to the point.”
I wait for her to answer, but her lips stay closed. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
She shakes her head and touches her finger to the tip of my nose. “Nope.”
I should care that she’s hiding something from me. I should ask more questions about the secrets she hides, I know I should.
Instead, I ask, “So, Juliette? What is it, exactly?”
Nora smiles a little with my transition of topics. I promised her before that I wouldn’t try to fix her, and it’s easier to keep that promise if I don’t pry into her life.
This plan is awesome, except for the small fact that I want to know everything about this woman. I want to know how many sugars she puts in her coffee and what her favorite song is. I want to hear how it sounds when she sings mindlessly, and I need to know how long it takes her to get out of bed in the morning. I have an obsessive, overpowering need to know everything about her, and she’s going to drive me completely insane by not giving me what I need.
When we arrive at the French bistro named Juliette, Nora is bursting with excitement. “This place is the best. Everyone says that Le Barricou is better, but don’t let them fool you. Just because Yelp says so doesn’t make it true.”
“What’s Yelp?” I ask, trying to keep up with Nora’s quick feet.
The chalkboard sign on the sidewalk says TRY OUR TUSCAN KALE SALAD. A little green leaf is drawn next to the words. Oh, so the French have adopted the California Leaf-Eaters way of life, too. Okay, so that society doesn’t exist . . . Well, it probably does, I just don’t have any proof. And isn’t Tuscany a region in Italy? Some French bistro . . .
Nora walks in front of me and passes through the doorway. She turns around to face me just before she reaches the hostess stand. “You have so much to learn, young one.” She smiles, then turns back around.
I glance around the restaurant, and Nora tells the hostess that we need a table for two. The young woman grabs two menus and begins to explain the specials of the day while leading us to a small circular table near the back of the room.
“Is your rooftop open?” Nora asks before she sits down.
The hostess looks around the room. “Not yet. Opens at five. We do have the terrace you can sit in.”
Nora smiles at her and nods. “Yes. Please.”
The woman leads us up a set of stairs to a space that looks like a garden. Potted plants hang from the ceiling, nearly touching the tabletops. The terrace is practically empty, only one table occupied.
“Perfect. Thank you so much,” Nora says.
I really like that she’s so nice to people in the food industry. It reminds me of my theory that everyone should have to work as a server at least once in their life. It also reminds me of the time Dakota had a meltdown at Steak ’n Shake in Saginaw because her burger came with onions when she had asked for none. I was embarrassed, but sat quietly as she raised her voice at the manager pretty intensely before asking for her food to be taken off the bill.
She felt like a jerk after we left.
I didn’t disagree with her.
I sit dow
n across from Nora. The metal chair makes a loud noise when I scoot it closer to the table. The menu is small; lunch only. There are more cocktails than meals printed on this thing.
“I always get the same thing.” Nora reaches across the table. She points to some kind of peppers and then to cauliflower something. I only recognize a few things on the entire menu. Is the menu in French?
“I’m getting the shishito peppers and cauliflower and leek gratin, and pommes frites. I love everything here.” She laughs and tucks her hair behind her ear. “I always order way too much food.”
“I . . . I’m going to get . . .” I see the word burger and point to it. “I don’t think I know what anything on the menu is.” I laugh in an attempt to hide my embarrassment.
Nora sets her menu down and moves her chair closer to the table. It doesn’t make an awful noise like mine did.
The hostess walks back to our table with a pitcher of water. Sliced cucumbers and ice are inside the pitcher. What is this place? Can I even afford to eat here? I’m definitely not in Saginaw anymore.
Nora thanks the hostess again, and she tells us that someone named Irene will be with us shortly. The more I look around, the more I see the terrace is pretty cool. Green leaves pouring out of wicker baskets hang over nearly every inch of the place.
“Which things don’t you know?” Nora’s hand is on my menu between us.
I look over the menu. Words like croque-monsieur and pommes frites laugh at me from the pages. “Basically everything except the burger.”
Nora is a trained chef. She probably thinks I’m an idiot. Though if she does, she isn’t showing it. Her face is relaxed, her lips ample and pink. Her eyes look up to mine, and she runs her tongue over her lips. I look away quickly before I forget my own freaking name.
“Most of these dishes are pretty simple. Restaurants just use fancy words so they can charge us twenty dollars for a ham-and-cheese sandwich. That’s what this is.” She taps her finger on the croque thing. “And this”—she looks up at me again—“these, pommes frites, are literally just french fries.”
Either I’m really damn hungry or Nora’s culinary lesson is incredibly hot. She’s so smart—too smart for me, I think.
“You should get the burger. I’m going to order a couple of things that I want you to try—but don’t read about them on the menu, because they sound disgusting.” She smiles when she notices the worried expression on my face. “I won’t get you anything too out there.” Her finger taps the tip of my nose.
Why does she always do that? And why is it so adorable?
Irene, our pretty server with dark lipstick and a Spanish accent, takes our order. Nora does me a favor and orders all of our food. Her voice changes into a beautiful lilt as she does so. I sit enchanted into silence until the server leaves and Nora begins a new conversation.
“Have you been to France?” Her eyes scan the French-themed décor on the walls.
I shake my head. Have you been to France? she asked so casually, like she was asking if I had been to the grocery store on the corner.
“No. I haven’t been. You?” My voice is shaking.
Why can’t I just be calm and cool, even for a little bit?
“I have. I’ve been twice with my family on vacation. But I’ve only seen the typical touristy things. I want to see the real France. I want to go where the French people go. Not where you pay thirty dollars for a glow-in-the-dark Eiffel Tower statue. I want to eat real crepes and try my best to speak French. I want to have coffee that doesn’t need a packet of sugar.” Nora takes a breath and covers her mouth. “I ramble a lot.” She laughs.
I take a drink of my water and try to think of something smart to say. I’m fresh out of smart, well-traveled words, so I ask another question. “Does your family travel a lot?”
I know very little about her family. I know that her parents live down the street from my mom and Ken, and that her dad is a surgeon and wanted her to be one. She doesn’t share much, and when she does, she only gives me tiny clues that I have to piece together.
“Yeah. They do. My sister is pregnant right now, so we aren’t going on our usual trip for Christmas, but we normally take one or two a year. I didn’t go on the last one because of the wreck—”
Nora pauses for a moment. She feels as if she’s said too much. I can tell.
“But now that Stausey is pregnant and due a week before Christmas, my dad thinks it’s best to stay here.”
There’s a hint of frustration in Nora’s voice again, but I don’t know enough to know where it stems from.
Wreck?
Pregnant sister?
“How old is your sister?” I ask, walking on eggshells.
“Thirty. Five years older than me. It’s her first child with her husband, Todd. That baby is going to be the most spoiled little thing.” Nora’s smile is soft now. I can tell she likes the idea of being an aunt. “Speaking of”—she runs her fingers over the condensation on her glass—“you’ll have a little sister soon. How’s your mom doing?”
Nora is so good at redirecting conversations that by the time I noticed she had, we were nearly done eating. Turns out, she was right about the food. Every single thing was delicious. The cauliflower-and-leek casserole was my favorite, and I’m not even 100 percent sure what a leek is.
I felt guilty while shoving the burger down my throat, knowing that Nora doesn’t eat meat. The thought had slipped my mind when I ordered it. Not until I offered her a bite of pretty bloodred meat did I remember. Even still, it was too good to not eat. I just made sure not to talk with my mouth full.
“You have to try this last thing and then I’ll leave you alone,” Nora tells me when I clear my plate. I don’t like the sound of that, of her leaving me alone. “Only for now,” she clarifies, and I bite back a smile.
She dips her spoon into a bowl with burned cheese crusted around the edges. “Close your eyes.”
I do just that. Something mushy and warm touches my lips when I open my mouth.
“Keep your eyes closed,” Nora instructs.
I smell onion as I use my teeth to pull the food from the spoon. I chew the soggy bite in my mouth, and the taste is good, despite the texture.
“This is just onion soup, nothing too special. Do you like it?” Nora’s voice sounds even better with my eyes closed.
I nod and open my mouth for more. I keep my eyes closed, and she feeds me another bite. I don’t think about the other table near us. I don’t even consider that the server could come back at any moment. Right now, all I can focus on is Nora’s ability to make eating onion soup sexy. I swear, she could touch a tree and I would find it appealing.
Seconds pass, minutes maybe, without interruption. “Have you traveled anywhere, Landon?”
I shake my head and open my eyes. “I went to Florida once when I was younger. My aunt Reese and her husband took me to Disney World. I got food poisoning on the second day, though, so I was sick the entire time. I ended up watching Disney movies from my bed in the hotel.”
My aunt Reese felt so bad for me, she even brought gifts from the gift shop and decorated my room. On the nightstands were two Mickey Mouse stuffed animals, and the table was covered in a beach towel with Cinderella’s castle printed on it.
“That’s awful.” Nora’s sitting so much closer than I remembered her doing before I closed my eyes. Her elbows are on the table, and she’s leaning forward enough that I wouldn’t even have to lean over to touch her face.
She’s so beautiful.
“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”
Just before I answer, Irene comes back to our table and clears the plates in front of us. “Can I get you anything else? Would you like to see the dessert menu?”
“I’ll have an espresso,” Nora says. “Do you want one?”
“Sure?”
Irene smiles at me. “Two espressos. Got it.”
“It’s a thing people do in Europe. They sometimes have coffee after their meal,” Nora
tells me.
“I really like how smart you are.”
Nora smiles at me from across the table. She leans back, distancing herself from me. “I really like how smart you are, too.”
“I couldn’t read the menu.” I laugh, reminding her.
She lowers her eyes, keeping them on mine. “You know a lot of things that I don’t know. You’re a good student and have read ten times more books than I have. Just because you can’t read a fancy menu or haven’t traveled the world doesn’t mean you aren’t smart.”
I hadn’t expected the conversation to take such a serious turn, but I notice that with those last words Nora seems upset. Her lips are pursed, and her brows are crumpled together.
“Did I say something?” I ask.
“No.”
I look up at the basket of leaves, sort of hoping it will fall on my head so this conversation will end.
“Well, yes. You do this thing where you put yourself down all the time. I don’t even know if you notice that you do it, but every time I compliment you, you try to find holes in it. Who told you that you weren’t good enough? That’s what I want to know.” She lowers her voice. “So I can have a nice long talk with them.”
Irene drops off our espressos, along with the bill, which Nora and I reach for at the same time.
“Let me.” I half expect her to fight me over it. She surprises me when she doesn’t.
As we drink our coffee in near silence, I think about how nobody has ever said to me what she just did. Not that I can remember. I’m not the most confident guy in the world by any means, but I didn’t realize just how much I put myself down, and I don’t know how to fix it.
When we leave the bistro, Nora takes a picture of the outside of the building. I don’t ask her why, and she doesn’t share.
“So, I think we should skip the ice cream place.” She pats her stomach. Her denim shirt is buttoned all the way up, and I can see the crease of her bra now that we’re back in the sunlight.