For Your Eyes Only [h.s.]

Ch. 8 - "who can't admit when he's sorry"

One Week Later

I told Noah one week.

 I needed a week before we could sit down for lunch and talk. I thought the week would move slowly, that I would have plenty of sleep to help me get ready for this conversation but somehow an entire week has passed and I don't feel ready at all.

That doesn't matter of course because I'm a fuckface and he's on his way to the apartment now. So ready or not here Noah comes.

The good news is that I can see Harry tomorrow and all of this can be a nice distant memory. I mean, I have a feeling Noah and Harry will need to meet eventually, since I've decided to give Noah another chance. Only one. If something remotely close to his hitting me happens again, we will be done. I'm resigned to my decision, confident that it's what I want. 

Harry is in New York, they got there yesterday and have been working on getting through a new scene he thought up for a music video so he's been busy but insisted I come and stay with him for a few days starting tomorrow. 

My thoughts of the many things I want to do with Harry in New York are cut short by the sound of gentle knocking at my front door. Noah. 

It's time. 

I rub the sweat that's began to collect on my hands down along my leggins in hopes of cooling myself down before I inevitably get nervous all over again. As I walk over to the front door I try to think the best way about going about this. Do I bring up my friendship with Harry? Besides the actual hit, we still need to talk about the source of this fight - he thinks I was cheating on him. We can't move forward if he doesn't know how to let this go. 

I grasp the door handle and take one final deep breath.

"Hi" I say softly when the door opens to reveal a kinder looking Noah than I remember.

"Lina, hi." He sighs. I look him over once, evaluating him to see if more than just the look in his eyes is different. He's holding a small bouquet with a single rose in one hand and a bag of takeout in the other. I said we should just order food for lunch so that we can not worry about the cleanup. 

"Can I come in?" He asks me. This formality is strange to me since he's always had his own key to this place for emergencies. He's always just let himself in, but I appreciate the respect he's trying to show me through the gesture. 

"Of course, is that for me?" I motion down to the flowers in his hand.

"Oh, yeah, here I uhm, I just wanted to do something to say thank you for this." He hands over the flowers and when our hands meet as I grasp to take them from him I feel a shiver move up my spine, I'm nervous. 

I move out of the way of the door to let him inside the apartment and he comes in and sets the bag of food down on the kitchen counter. 

"So, Adelaide I was hoping..." I cut him off.

"Let's set up some lunch and then we can chat, yeah?" I ask him, wanting to give myself some time to get used to him in the apartment in the first place.

"Sure." He answers simply. He moves into the kitchen to grab some plates and silverware, being familiar with the place regardless of the month we've spent apart. 

I take the takeout boxes out of the bag and place them down, opening them up one by one. We always get the same dishes from our favorite Chinese food place, and today is no different. I thought it would be nice to have something familiar that we both enjoy to make this as easy as possible.

But now I'm left wondering if I did it to remind myself of what it felt like when things were easy, to help me remember.

Once we have served ourselves our normal plate, we take our places at the small dining table I have along the entrance to the kitchen. We begin to eat our food when I decide to dive in head first to the conversation I know I can no longer put off.