#alms

You thought it would be comforting to have your boyfriend here but now he’s just another person to worry about. Your eyes scan the party again, seeing if you can spot any other familiar faces. 

When you look over to Noah, it’s the same it’s always been, his eyes are already on you. Even from across the room, he finds a way. Even with someone else’s hand in yours, your heart skips a beat.

As the room turns and groups continue to shift, it’s unavoidable that your two converge. Your hair is kept different now, the last time Noah saw you. You, like him, are more settled into your body, he can see it from how you carry yourself. There’s less of the girlish roundness to your face, your cheekbones more pronounced. You’re still not loud by any stretch of the imagination but it doesn’t feel like you’re folding into yourself anymore. There’s a calmness

“Hey,” you say it like you just took a quick trip to the bathroom. Like it hasn’t been four  years since you last saw each other. Nearly three since your last text. 

“Hi. How are you?” Noah holds out his hand to give you a polite shake. 

Instead of taking his hand, you sneak into his arms. His still head rests naturally on yours, you still feel the same pressed against his chest. An ache he thought was long gone hits his chest. 

“Oh my god, it’s been so long,” your words are muffled against his chest. You can't help but rub your hands against his back, feeling the soft cotton of his shirt. Holy shit he feels like a whole new person. “I’m good. How are you?” 

“Good, good,” he hugs you tightly, matching the way your arms feel around him. 

After exchanging the usual niceties, you introduce him to your date. His name is Leo. To Noah, the guy looks a little too New York and a little lame. He looks like a trust fund kid. He is one but nobody needs to know it. 

Noah introduces you to his date Erin. It’s all pleasant enough, you don’t stay with them too long. Opting to continue to mill about the room and avoid the award conversation of just how well you and Noah know each other. 

—

It isn’t until much later in the night that you see Noah again. You find yourself in the empty kitchen, opening cupboards, looking for a glass. Your head is light, your cheeks flush from the warmth of the bodies and wine. You can’t fight the smile that becomes permanently plastered on your face after a few drinks. 

“Two doors to the right,” Noah’s voice stops you in your tracks. Of course he knows where things are, this is Nick’s place after all. Thankful that you’re already facing away, you follow his instructions, opening the cabinet door. 

Wrapping your hand around a cup, you take a breath and work up the courage to turn to him, “Do you need one?” 

He leans against the counter and shakes his head, “I don’t really drink anymore.” 

You nod, filling your glass from a dispenser labeled ‘Tinto de Verano’. Once it’s full, you lean against the countertop, matching his stance. Taking a deep sip from your cup, you meet his eyes. 

The air feels charged between you. It shouldn’t be after all this time. Nothing happens for what feels like an eternity. It’s a little awkward. Like two animals meeting for the first time, curiosity is present but also an equal part caution. If now was then, the last time you met, there was an equal chance at violence and a kiss.

Regardless of the apprehension, Noah takes the chance to truly take you in. He is well aware it might be your only time alone so he’s not shy about it. His eyes scan your face, your hair, your dress. Does it still take a long time to get ready? It looks effortless now but he wonders if you still care too much about that kind of thing. The way your dress skims your hips makes him want to pull you in close. 

It’s him who breaks the silence first. “You look really good.” 

“It’s a cliche thing, isn’t it? Move away and get prettier or whatever.” 

He gives a quick frown, you still can’t just take a compliment without a bit of self deprecating. He doubles down, “I always thought you were pretty.” 

“Thank you,” swallowing hard the taste of wine lingers on your tongue as you stare on too. 

You knew this was inevitable but somehow thought maybe you’d feel nothing. You expected it would be just like passing a stranger on the street. You give a tight lipped smile and nod, it feels impolite to do anything less. Brief and forgettable. Instead your heart is beating hard against your ribs. You hope the facade you’ve put on looks steadier than it feels. 

Now feels like a good time as ever to settle something. A question that’s always bothered you. You’ve promised yourself you’d ask if the chance ever came up and it’s not like you’ll see much of him after this wedding, “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” 

“What ever happened with that last girl you were dating when I moved? Natalie? Rachel?” 

“Rachel,” Noah laughs into his cup. “We weren’t very compatible in the end.”

You chuckle at the absurdity of the statement. He feels like he’s somehow missed a joke. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, just I could’ve told you that. She hated everything about your career.” 

Everyone told him a thousand times but it seems like that made him more hellbent on this girl. She’s the one who truly ended things between you. He was roped in and cut you off clean. Maybe you should send her flowers; it made the final decision to leave easy.

“Yeah, well you could’ve warned me. You just left instead.” 

“I remember someone who wasn’t responding to texts anymore. You weren’t exactly listening to anyone then,” It shouldn’t mean anything but, even now, you can still hear the bit of hurt in your voice.  

It’s been years but that not-breakup lingered. It felt like a scar only you could see. There were no signs you were dating so there were no signs you stopped. it never felt right to bring it up with anyone other than Noah, so you mourned it in private. Even when you hashed it out with new friends, nobody else seemed to really understand how in deep the two of you were. 

“And what about Leo?” The look he gives you is the same mischievous one he would give you before he would pull you close and say something that would be just a tab bit meaner than usual. 

“Noah,” You warn with a smile but it’s an embarrassed kind of smile. If you’re dishing questions, it's only fair you have to take them. 

Now that you’re back here, with them, even you can’t believe you’re dating someone like Leo. A little squarish and too clean. In another life you would be across the kitchen island shoulder to shoulder with Noah making fun of Leo. 

Now you ask, “What about Leo?” 

“Nothing,” he pulls back, “Just different, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah. Well he’s nice and stable, and I didn't have the best record before,” he of all people should know. A part of you hopes that he’s self aware enough to know it’s a dig. 

He lifts his hand in surrender. “Just doesn’t seem your type.” 

“Maybe it changed.” 

“Fair.” 

The conversation dies with that but you’re not ready for it to end. Not yet. Noah isn’t either. He doesn’t risk getting too close. Instead he moves to the kitchen island, leaning on his elbows towards you. You can’t help but notice how there’s just so much more of him as he comes a bit closer. Did he get even taller? He rests his chin on his fist with a disarming smile beckoning you in. 

“How was your program?” he asks. At least one of you hasn't forgotten how to start a normal conversation. 

Taking one of the barstools across the kitchen island, you sit in front of him. Making sure to keep a conscious distance. There’s relief that he’s at least asked an easy question. This is something you’ve answered a dozen times since this spring. Makes it easier with your emotions feeling like a tangled mess in your stomach.

“It was good. I finished about 6 months ago but job prospects aren’t great there so I started interviewing here in LA and in San Francisco,” you shrug, trying to make it sound boring but the way Noah’s eyebrows raise lets you know it’s anything but. “I know. Me back on the West Coast.” 

“Congratulations.” 

“Thank you,” you fidget with your glass before looking at him again, “What about you? How have things been? You guys really took off.” 

With that the mood lightens and it starts to feel like old times. Time easily gets away from you as he talks about the albums you missed. It’s cute, his time is now punctuated by singles, albums, tours as though those are his seasons. 

Some time around 9 pm, you’re refilling your glass for a third time and you realize how long you’ve been sitting together. Leo comes in as though he read your mind, he stands beside your barstool, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

Noah stands up straight with a quick “hey.” It’s not Noah’s intent but his full height commands attention, respect. He does not have to posture the same way, he simply is. 

“Nice seeing you again,” Leo says politely. The previous carefree mood is gone, now Leo peacocks in a way you’ve never seen him do. 

“Sorry for stealing her. We were just catching up and time got away,” Noah's casual apology makes Leo's brow furrow.

“I know how it goes,” Leo pulls you closer still, planting an awkward kiss to the side of your head, “We should rejoin the party.” 

You nod, getting off your barstool. Just as quickly you’re gone with an apologetic smile and a quick, “See you later, Noah.” 

——

“That was nice,” you say as you get back to the hotel. Finally, you can unstrap your heels and revel in the relief of the hotel carpet beneath your feet. 

Leo’s been oddly quiet for someone as opinionated as himself. Typically, he starts giving his subjective opinion of new people the second they’re out of earshot. No matter how many times you ask him to at least wait for the drive home. Today he’s given no such grade to anyone. 

Instead he gives a very quick, “Yeah.” 

“Did you have a good time?” You wonder if he picks up on the subtext. Did you like them? Did you dislike them? Could you ever see yourself here?

You saw him get a good conversation in with Jesse but other than that, it didn’t seem like he made too many new connections. This group is different from the one you’ve formed together during school. There, some are outdoors people, some like music, some have other hobbies but none of them were necessarily like the folks from LA. At their core they’re traditional academics. 

“It was good. You don’t talk to them too often anymore, do you?” 

“I talk to the two Nicks pretty often,” you feel defensive. Sure it’s not that often but if you move back, it’ll likely be more frequent. 

“Yeah I remember when one of them visited.”

It’s quiet as you start to shuffle through luggage. You struggle with all the feelings of nostalgia being back here. There’s so much sadness and happiness which just leaves you feeling all mixed up. 

“What was the deal with that Noah guy?” He tries to work the question casually but the name gets stuck in his throat. It feels unnatural. 

“The deal? Nothing really. He’s just an old friend.” 

“Only an old friend?” Now you hear it. Jealousy and insecurity. 

“Well we used to kind of date. It was a casual thing. You know how it goes when you’re younger? It ended before I moved.” You force your voice to be light and airy, nothing to see here. 

“Casual?” 

“Yeah, casual,” you repeat. “Why?” 

“You seemed pretty cozy with him in the kitchen.”

You should’ve seen this coming. The relationship has been on shaky ground from the moment the program ended. Both of you knew that the future of this might lay with job prospects. As months passed, he found a job. He put down true roots, and you found nothing but rejections. The ice keeps getting thinner and Leo starts pulling stuff like this. 

Neither has said it out loud but this is not just a visit, it’s a slow march to the future that’s set to pull you apart. This invitation, the interviews, just seem to have broken the illusion. This isn’t a maybe anymore. Suddenly it’s a reality. And just as quickly he sees he might just have been a placeholder. 

“Cozy? We were talking across the kitchen island,” you take a deep breath in and release it with a big sigh. 

Preparing yourself for the same song and dance that’s been going on the whole summer. You take a bit of attention from him and suddenly a mess. This might be the one time he has a point. 

“No. Don’t try to play it off. The whole night— every time I looked up it was the two of you just staring at each other.” 

“It isn’t anything like that. We just ended on weird terms and I think we didn’t know where we stood.” 

“And where do you stand?” 

“Friends? Acquaintances? I guess.” You grasp at straws trying to see if anything lands correctly. Every answer feels like you’re digging a deeper grave.

“Acquaintances,” contempt is thick in his tone. He could never fill those shoes if that’s an acquaintance, “I don’t think you’ve looked at me like that once in nearly 3 years.”

“Babe,” you start, trying to think of anything to excuse it. Anything that makes it seem less than that.

Instead it feels like the final nail on the coffin. Still something in you begs to salvage it. To try and reason with him. Maybe it’s because you’re not ready for the change that seems to be pressing on regardless of your wants. 

“It’s not like that. You saw he had someone with him too.” 

“So that’s the only thing stopping you? His girlfriend?” You know what he’s saying, It shouldn’t matter. Guilt floods in. 

You're quite a long time. A part of you resents him for being here, for having this conversation. It feels particularly annoying as you think of Noah’s comments earlier. 

“Do you have anything you want to say for yourself?” He raises his voice now, his agitation clearer. 

“What do you want me to say?” 

“Three years and you don’t know what to say? Maybe ‘sorry babe. I left you there looking like a fucking loser’?” 

“You’re not a loser. Where is this all coming—“ 

“I’m sitting there like an idiot for an hour while you make googly eyes at some guy I’ve never ever fucking heard of. What did you even talk about?” 

“Nothing, just work.” You choose words carefully now. Afraid to be too silent. Afraid to give too much away. 

“There was an entire party but you two were in there talking about work?” He punctuates the word like it’s foreign to him. Like it’s the first time he’s heard it. It hangs in there air.

You smooth your palms against your thighs nervously. It’s most of the truth. You sat and Noah told you about tours and studios. Other parts of life naturally bled in but that was the core. 

“Can’t believe I wasted so much time on you,” he mutters as he pulls out his phone, “I’m moving my flight up.” 

“Ok.” 

“You should see about finding somewhere else to live.” 

“Yeah,” your answer is barely above a whisper. You’d moved in with him, You adjusted your life to accommodate him. Everything was to his liking and, now, you don’t have a leg to stand on. You’ll just have to figure it out. 

He makes a noise halfway between a scoff and a laugh and goes to the bathroom. By the time he’s back, you’ve wrapped yourself in the spare blanket and turned your back to him. He doesn’t say another word as you feel the bed shift under his weight. When you wake up in the morning, there’s no trace of him. 

You wallow a while before leaving for lunch at Nicholas’ place. Today it’s just the wedding party and a few other people. It’ll be far fewer people than last night's engagement party but you don’t want to start answering questions about why you suddenly show up alone.

You remember the LA outfit and you’re happy to arrive and see half the people who show up appear to be in the same thing. Jeans and a simple tshirt. A casual jacket. Dark sunglasses. Last night’s party apparently went on long after you left and a few folks look worse for wear. Good. Less attention on you. With a quick hug to the bride and groom, you make your way to your seat, not too crazy about talking to others. 

“I’ll leave a seat for Leo,” Folio says, skipping a chair as he arrives. Somehow he manages to be later than you. 

“Oh you don’t have to.” 

“He’s not coming?” he checks again, already moving over his jacket to the chair on your right. 

You shake her head. 

Nick gives a single nod. As he takes the seat, he gives your knee a reassuring squeeze before he turns his attention to the head of the table. Relief floods you, Nick has a sense for these kinds of things. 

You feel a little kick on your foot, when you look over, you meet Noah’s gaze, he mouths “You good?”

You respond with a nod and a small smile before turning her attention to Nick's conversation. Listening in on how he talks to a few other people about work stuff, of course. Whenever they find themselves engrossed in it too much, someone will point it out and they’ll stop, find something else to talk about. Today they ask you about school. Then they turn the conversation to Nick's new motorcycle project. You’re grateful the conversation keeps moving naturally away from you. 

Once lunch is over, Nick asks you if you need a cigarette. It’s been years since your last one but still you follow him to the backyard. He hands you a cigarette, an old habit. You take it for nostalgia. It gives you something to do while you talk. 

Now that it’s just you, he finally feels it appropriate to ask, “What happened? Everything ok?” 

“Sure.” 

He's more or less kept up with your life. You don’t know how he does it, it’s like he’s mentally mapped the location of his people and finds a way to them. There’s a wellness check via phone call or text every 6 months. He’s even dropped in a few times, sleeping on your couch as he went through the East Coast on his motorcycle. 

“Talk,” he orders you now, taking a pull from his cigarette. 

Your lips purse as you think about it. If there’s anyone who would immediately understand the situation it’s Folio. This is a genuine concern. He’s not just digging for the sake of gossip.

“Well Leo got mad— when we got back.” 

“About the kitchen?” Of course Folio noticed.

“Yeah.” 

“Did he know about Noah?” 

“Not really. But the kitchen was really nothing. We literally just talked about your guys' tours and my degree.” 

The way he rolls his eyes at your bullshit stops you in your tracks. For once, he’s the one giving you a serious look. It’s crazy how times change. The idea of Folio being the serious one was once laughable.  

“Did he just hang back at the hotel?” 

You shake your head. “I think that might be done.” 

It is done but you can’t admit it out loud. Not yet. Can’t make it real yet. For the first time you think about what that separation means. You’ll keep the friends from before him but all your mutual friends are his. The worst is yet to come. 

“Because of last night?” Nick's tone lets you know he thinks that’s bullshit. 

“No. It was coming. I think we were going through some of the motions already and well…” you pause. 

Someone comes up behind you. There is no need to look to know it’s Noah, he still walks with the same gait. Still you check, you look up and see his shy smile. 

“Hi,” Noah comes to stand nearby. 

“Hey,” Suddenly the previous conversation feels embarrassing, you pivot it elsewhere, “I was telling Noah yesterday, I’m interviewing at a few places in California. I haven’t had luck finding a job. I’ll be here through the end of the week.” 

“What about Leo?” Noah shouldn’t be nosey but he needs to hear it. Some part of him still needs some confirmation

“Leo went home.” You look away as you feel stray tears start to well in your eyes. Now is not the time. 

Noah keeps giving Nick sideways glances but it’s like he doesn’t get it. Or maybe he won’t. Finally, when Nick finishes his own cigarette he looks at Noah, giving him a warning 

“Be right back,” Folio gives your shoulder a quick squeeze as he walks away. He won’t be right back. Folio always gets distracted. 

Your heart rate is up in a moment. You braced for this earlier but had begun to relax into the day and thought maybe Noah would just let bygones be bygones. 

“I just wanted to see if you have time to catch up later this week?” 

“No.” Cut and dry. There's no hesitation to it. You need to hear it just as directly as he does. 

“Why not?” Noah challenges. 

“Because I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” he parrots. 

You want to tell him you’re not like that anymore. That now you’re done with being the cool, casual girl. Plus he has Erin, you think to yourself but can’t muster the thought of saying that out loud. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” It’s like he can read your mind. Even if that’s the truth, there’s no need to test it. 

“I know but even if you didn’t…” you mull his words. Fidgeting with your cigarette, you don’t bring it to your lips. “If you put us in a room together and leave us unattended, how long do you give it?” 

“You slept with Jesse back then too and you hung out with him a few days ago.”

“I can’t believe he told you that,” you laugh. The embarrassment cuts some of the weird tension that’s settled. 

“You’re the one who did it.” 

“Oh and you’re one to judge? Jesse told me about that threesome when you toured together,” you argue back. 

You weren’t the only one without boundaries then. Neither of you can help a playful glance. It’s not lost on you that he avoided your last question. God how easy it is to just be pulled back into it. It’s always these gentle waves lulling you into security until a big one drags you back in. 

There’s a pause. For some reason you feel the need to justify that decision. “It was brunch. The least sexy meal of the day. Plus the man thinks himself a philosopher of sorts now. He makes up his own existential crises.” 

Noah scoffs at the implication but you're right. He hates that you’re right. From the first time he laid eyes on you again, he’s wanted to know what you would feel like under him now. Both your bodies so different. Would you taste the same? Make the same sweet noises? He shakes his head, trying to shake off all the thoughts. He did— does actually care about you beyond that. Cares about being back in your life. 

“Mel’s serves brunch all day.” 

“My therapist would be very disappointed in me.” It’s cheap to deflect the responsibility onto someone else, you know it is, but still you throw it out there in hopes he’ll leave it. 

He gives you that same mischievous smile as before. With a raised brow, he asks, “You told your therapist about me?” 

You shrug, tossing your cigarette on the ground. Noah stomps it out before you can. 

Even in this little time you can feel your resolution shrinking. When you look at him, he's still giving you that smile, the same boyish smile that always got under your skin. Even in the worst anger, even that one time you thought you might take a swing at him, it was that smile that broke your anger. Fuck. You thought you’d be too old for this but even now. 

“See you later, Noah.” You turn on her heel and head inside before anything else can come of it.