twisted | ✔️

chapter sixteen

       

I checked my phone right as I entered the restaurant, and it was eight o'clock on the nose. I'd spent the half-hour before this sitting on my bed, my leg shaking anxiously up and down, already completely done up and ready to go, and now that I was here, my heart was pounding in my ears, making it impossible to hear anything as I tried to ask the maître d' if there was someone already here, waiting for me. He nodded, and I followed him through the restaurant.

Everything here was upscale, and I felt out of place, even though I'd dressed the part, picking out a short cobalt-blue chiffon dress with thin straps, the fanciest thing I owned. This was the type of place with linen tablecloths they replaced after every meal, where they poured water into wine glasses and had a live piano player at the back who serenaded the guests all night. But as Noah came into view, dressed in a white button-down and a purple tie fastened up to his neck, it felt like exactly the place I needed to be.

Two glasses of champagne were already sitting on the table as I approached. Noah stood up when he saw me, nervously wiping his hands on the sides of his pants and then touching the top of his tie to make sure it was still in place, and when I looked down, there were sneakers on his feet, and I had to fight the urge to smirk.

"Hi," I said, and it came out more as a squeak than anything else.

"Hi," he echoed, a stupid smile plastered across his face. His eyes raked over my body, and I could almost feel them. "Wow," he said, and I shifted self-consciously under his gaze. He grabbed my arms, pulling me in for a hug, his mouth against my hair, and I didn't even care that I'd spent an hour curling it and pinning it to the side of my head. He pulled out my chair for me and I sat down, folding my dress underneath me.

"You look amazing," he said.

"You don't look too shabby yourself," I joked.

"I'm glad you came out tonight. I mean, I kind of wanted to celebrate. My dad told me you got the job."

"Not officially," I said bashfully. "They still haven't offered it to me yet."

"Yeah, but my dad said you did amazing. They really liked you. They'd be crazy not to offer it to you."

"I mean, I don't know what I'm doing. I've never worked in editing before, so I'll be learning everything on the job, so—"

"Will you stop?" he interjected. "You always do that, underestimate yourself. You're going to be amazing, trust me." I ducked my head and picked up my menu to hide my blushing, smiling into the pages. I felt his hand graze gently against my elbow and then retreat like it was never even there, and when I looked up, he was smiling into his menu, too.

"Do you plan on donating a kidney sometime soon, or something?" I asked as I scanned over all of the items listed, none of which had anything less than a two at the start of the price.

"What?" he laughed.

"Uh, this food," I stammered. "I mean, I know you're going to be a doctor, but still—"

"No," he said, trying to reach over and cover the prices, "no, don't look at that. Don't even worry. Just . . . order what you want." I put the menu down on the table in front of me, away from my eyes so I wouldn't have to feel so guilty about spending Noah's money. I was never one who wanted fancy things, who needed to be wined and dined to want to be with someone; I could survive on dates solely comprised of fast food and cheap beer as long as the guy made me laugh. This was too much, and I wanted to be with Noah one last time before he left, but this didn't feel anything like us.

"Why did you want to meet here?" I asked after the waiter had come and gone, taking our orders and setting the rest of the bottle of champagne down between us. My hands were in my lap, but Noah reached over and grabbed one, lifting it onto the table, stroking my knuckles with his thumb.