Ineffable

23 | IRIS-MANIA

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Iris

The day was so tiring but all of us had so much fun. We went bowling too, after. Today, I also realized that I hate bowling, and the bowling alley shares the feeling towards me, given that I literally almost broke the scoreboard.

I might be good in physics but the force and direction in bowling just had me: oh, the hell with this thing.

Only after Nick and Michael got tied in multiple games and they both agreed to that, we all went back to our homes.

"Goodness, I am so tired," I say, flopping down on my bed, after getting a shower and changing to my normal outfit; oversized sweaters and sweatpants.

"Should I just take the food away, then?"

Turning my body, a bit, I see Noah as he opens the door. He has changed into his normal dark attire.

"Noah? You are... here?" I say, sitting upright. "What are you doing here?"

Noah stops coming inside the room and looks at me. "I can leave—"

"Oh goodness," I groan, getting up from the bed to go towards him. "Sometimes you are so formal that you really make me think that we are strangers and not friends but then I remember that you bought me clothes, calling it a gift from a friend to another friend."

"You are not going to let that go."

"You got that right." I pull him by his hand and tell him, "Come in, stupid. You have my heart."

"What?" Noah stops me, looking at me in surprise.

"Food," I explain, gesturing towards the brown bag he has, in his other hand. "Food is my heart."

I laugh as we sit on the bay window while he says something in Italian. He runs his finger through his hair finally and gives me the brown bag.

I hold out the bag and, looking at it, I say, "Caramel cupcakes."

He looks at me, raising his eyebrows. "Nice guess but no, I got cinnamon rolls."

"Really?" I say, grinning, and open the bag. The fresh aroma hits me first and I have forgotten all about being tired. As I about to take one of them, I pause.

"I made them," Noah says, noticing my changed expression.

Keeping the bag between us, I cross my arms over my chest and inquire, "So fast?"

"I am a fast baker," He states, looking back at me with confidence. "And Tiffany helped too."

I sigh, taking a roll. "Only because of Tiffany, I believe you."

I take a bite.

Another bite.

Another bite.

He asks, looking at me, intensely, "How is it? Too much sugar?"

I swear when I say this—In each bite, I am in a different realm of sugar and cinnamon and damn, I love it so much. When they touch my tongue, they melt into this goodness that sparks up sugar fireworks in my mouth.

I want to tell him that they are so good that I may just—

"It is good—really good," I say, interrupting my thoughts. My cheeks flush with heat as I let my hair be the barrier.