Right Person Too Late

chapter 9

Noah

"You can count on me like one, two, three. I'll be there."

Song: Count On Me by Bruno Mars

Although she and Miles were acting weirdly on Sunday, it was one of the best days I've had this month. Reuniting with her, hearing her voice, watching that beautiful face of hers light up every time she talked or laughed, and the three of us being back together, made this big city that I've never really fit in feel more like home.

I'm thinking about all this as I knock on her apartment door Tuesday morning, laden down with cake boxes with Tarta De Santiago and the cookies I'd made this morning. She'd given me her address before leaving on Sunday and told me to come by anytime so that I could help her out with our most recent psychology assessment. Plus she'd also told me that neither she nor her friends could cook, so I made them something to eat for breakfast. My mother would be proud of me right now, she always taught me to never only make one thing when cooking for someone and here I am doing exactly what she said.

A girl with golden blonde hair pops her head out from behind the door. She looks me up and down before darting back into the apartment.

"You guys expecting anyone? There's a tall, hunky guy out here with what looks like cake!" She yells into the room.

Arsema's reply comes almost immediately, "It's probably Noah, wait I'm coming!" I hear her long, bouncy strides approaching us. She yanks the door open, a beaming, welcoming smile on her face, gently shoving her friend to the side. "Hey, Noah! I didn't know you were coming. Wait did you text me? That's probably it, my phone's been dead all day, sorry. Come on in."

She gestures for me to come in. I slowly make my way in, hesitant due to the stares her friend is shooting at me from where she's standing behind Arsema.

"So this is Noah?" She snarls, menacingly, or at least in a way that's meant to seem like it. Arsema shakes her head out of the odd trance she was in and replies,

"Oh yeah! I just realised you guys haven't met. Mia, this is Noah. Noah, Mia."

Mia looks up at me, "Mhm. Why are you here?"

"What the hell Mia!" Arsema elbows her, surprise mixed with apology written on her face as she turns to face me. "Sorry, she's not usually like this."

"It's okay," I assure Arsema before replying to Mia, "I'm only here to help Arsema with her homework, and I come bearing cake and cookies." I hold up the boxes, a white flag of sorts.

Although it's obvious that she doesn't like me and that's not what I want, I'm glad to see that Arsema has someone who loves her fiercely and is willing to protect her no matter the cost.

"Alright." She turns around and marches into the other room.

Arsema lets out a sigh and nods at me to follow her. We walk into a living room that has plants on every single surface available, on the tables, windows, floor and hanging from the ceiling. There's a giant bookshelf lining the wall furthest from us and a worn-down but comfy-looking dark grey couch on one side of the room. A dark-stained, wooden coffee table is pushed to the other wall because there's red, yellow and golden yarn littering the middle of the room.

"It's Ashenda soon, isn't it? Have you finally found out what the yarn things are called?" I ask, referring to the Tigrayan yearly women's dance festival held towards the end of August.

She spins on her heels to face me in astonishment, "You remember Ashenda?"

I scoff, "Of course I do, you kinda forced us to give you money every year, didn't you? Miles and I even went to the dance at Federation Square last year."