The Thing About Three

chapter thirteen | freshly cut grass and rain

THE NEXT DAY, a good distraction from my heartache came in the form of Noah Caraway.

It was a Sunday afternoon and I had just gotten back from church with my dad. Dad was in the kitchen making us sandwiches as I changed from my blue sundress into jeans and a hoodie.

My phone buzzed on my dresser, and I fumbled to finish buttoning my pants before grabbing it. After a few seconds of staring at Noah's name and preparing myself, I answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Champagne," Noah greeted.

"Hey, Caraway."

"If I come pick you up, would you want to go driving with me?"

"Um, yeah, absolutely," I told him without even giving myself time to think. "When?"

"Right now."

"'Right now?'" I frowned. "I'm about to mow the yard right now."

"Oh, you like mowing yards?"

"Heck no," I huffed. "I hate doing yard work. My Dad mentioned his back hurt so I offered to mow the lawn and he took me up on it. Didn't even realize it was an empty offer," I joked. "Could you come by after I get done, maybe?"

The line was silent for a few moments before he replied. "I have a better idea. How about I come by right now and help you mow the yard?"

"What?"

"Why do you sound so surprised? You don't think I'm a good guy or something?"

"No, I just—I just wasn't expecting that. Are you sure?"

"Yeah, why not? I've got nothing to do for the day, anyways. That good with you?"

"Yeah," I said almost too eagerly.

He heard my eagerness, breathing out a laugh into the receiver. "Okay, Champagne. I'll be there in five minutes. Don't get started without me."

It took me a while—and a silent happy dance—to try and compose myself enough to enter the kitchen without being a blushing, smiling mess, but Dad seemed to pick up on my wildly happy mood regardless.

"What are you smiling for?" he asked, handing me my sandwich on a plate. "I know well enough that it's not because you have to mow the yard."

"I have a friend coming to help me mow," I said, suppressing my smile as I took my plate and sat down at the bar.

Dad lit up. "Dallas is coming?"

"Uh, no, my friend Noah."

And then Dad darkened. "'Noah?'" He frowned. "Is this the same Noah that you went out with last week?"

I blushed, ducking my head to look down at my sandwich. "Yes, but we're just friends."

"Good, cause he looks like trouble. I don't like him."

I rolled my eyes. "You said the same thing about Dallas before you got to know him."

He waved a hand. "That's different."

"Not really."

"Whatever." He picked up his sandwich and took a bite. "Just don't expect me to like him," he said once he had swallowed.

"Again; you said the same thing about Dallas. And you love Dallas." I smiled when he frowned and took another bite.

By the time we were both done with our sandwiches, the doorbell rang. I nearly fell out of my chair trying to stand up and get to the front door before my dad, opening the door nearly panting as I caught Noah's eyes.