The Best is Yet to Come

Three: Noah

I have to find another way to see her again.

I've been lost in thought for the past 24 hours. I keep replaying the events from Glory's in my head, getting more frustrated each time. My insecurities eat at me as I remember what a fool I'd been during what may have been my only chance to introduce myself to Emma.

"BROOO! SUCK IT!" A yell interrupts my thoughts as Chris throws his controller on the floor in victory.

"Be careful! That controller was like $80," I scold, taking a sip of my beer. I don't say any more as I allow Chris to have his fleeting moment of victory. I learned long ago to let my friends win every few matches while playing video games. Even though I could slaughter him in every round, unfortunately his ego couldn't take it. Who wants to play video games with a guy they know will always win?

I wonder if Emma plays video games. I try to picture it; her blue eyes focused on the screen, her delicate fingers gripping the controller in concentration. I imagine the smile on her face when she wins a match. God, she'd be beautiful.

I realize I should probably tell Chris about the mystery girl from the bookstore. I'm sure he'd get a kick out of my embarrassment. Even better if it distracts him from his foolish victory dance.

Ugh. Where to start? "So, I met this girl at-"

"Is she hot?" Chris interrupts.

I roll my eyes. Of course that would be his first assumption. "Does it matter?" I grit.

"The anti-douche deep inside me is making me say no but I only ask because your past girls have been unbelievable, man. I'm just excited." The smile on his face is a little odd. It reminds me of the way little kids look when you tell them there's cake at a party. "Remember Jessica?" He gives me a suggestive wink and I turn away.

"Forget Jessica, this girl is something else entirely." I say and Chris pauses the match to look at me.

"Aw, man. Don't go all Romeo on me. We have a nice life together, you and I. Don't spoil it with love." He says the last word with a disgusted look on his face.

"What are you talking about?" I laugh. Chris gives me a judging look and continues our match.

"I'm just saying that life is good right now, you know? We live in this apartment together, we have all the food and beer we can consume, and we play video games every night. What more could two buds ask for? AW, FUCK! COME ON!" I hold back a smile as I smash his character off the stage, winning the match. He stands up in frustration and stomps toward the kitchen.

"Want another beer?" he asks gruffly.

"Sure, thanks."

I sit back on the leather couch and try to think of the best way to tell him about Emma. Not only will I get shit on for my failed attempt to woo her, he'll be more surprised to know that I give a shit in the first place. Even I can't remember the last time I was so obsessed with a girl.

Let's try this again. Even though asking Chris for advice with Emma will probably hurt me more than it will help, it's not like I have anyone else to talk to. I have no other close friends or family members I trust and I'd rather die than talk about this with my mother.

Chris sulks back into the living room with two beers, navigating his way through the maze of trash on the floor and tossing one to me before settling back down on the couch.

"I don't really understand it but there's something.... different about her," I struggle, "She was beautiful." An extreme understatement in my opinion but how do I explain this to Chris? She practically radiated beauty- if such a ridiculous thing we're possible. Even that dust trap of a bookstore seemed like an oasis around her.

"What are you trying to do? Sleep with her?" Chris eyes me suspiciously with a raised brow and takes a swig from the amber bottle in his fist.

"No!" Yes.

I I gulp down my beer, hoping it could help me feel less depressed, "Well... I mean, I wouldn't object but it's not like that this time. I want to... I don't know, talk to her?" I look over at him, concerned that even I could hear desperation in my voice.

Chris's bewildered stare matches mine before he barks a laugh and I feel the urge to punch him in the jaw. "Oh, Jesus. It's worse than I thought. You want to talk," he howls and mimics throwing up over the side of the couch before slapping me on the back, "The fuck is wrong with you? She's beautiful, so what? So is every other poor girl you've lured into this apartment. If you couldn't make it work, I'm sure there was another clueless chick standing six feet away from her that would have thrown herself in your direction if you'd only asked."

I sit back and think for a moment. Why this girl? I honestly don't know. It felt like I didn't have any control in the matter. Looking back, it felt more like an enchantment than attraction- though there was certainly enough of that. I've never felt anything like it before.

"I want to see her again," I mutter, more to myself than to Chris.

"Ok... then go see her. Where did you meet this mystery girl? Is she on Facebook? Insta?" he asks, confused, as if I should have figured this out myself.

"She's a cashier at Glory's," I explain.

"Whatever, dude. Did you get her number? Whats her name so I can look her up?" Chris reached for his phone and, surprisingly, this annoys me.

"Chris! I didn't get her number, ok? I froze up," I admit.

Chris stops scrolling on his phone and looks at me, his jaw dropped, "What?"

"Nothin! Just forget it." I scoff and try to move on but Chris looks at me like I've grown two heads.

"You have brought back more girls into this apartment than I can even count," he says slowly.

That's an exaggeration.

"Fuck off." Great, now he's never going to let this go. Why did I bother him with this in the first place? It's not like Chris could be any help- the guy has never asked out a girl in his life.

Chris shakes his head in laughter, red hair flopping back and forth. I take a good look at him, crumbs and grease stains cover his plain white t-shirt and his sweatpants look as if they hadn't had a wash in days. He desperately needs a haircut and a shave. Honestly, Chris looks more like a homeless person every day.

"So you didn't get her number. Do you at least know her name?" Chris teases.

"Emma- I didn't get her last name," I answer quietly. "Do you think I should go back to the store tomorrow and try again?" I add, and I'll admit that I might be searching for validation of a crazy plan I have brewing in the back of my mind. It feels like I'm in seventh grade all over again, formulating different ways for me to "accidentally" run into her. Except even thirteen-year-old Noah would have been ashamed of my performance at the bookstore. I'm annoyed now; about my mistake, about the frustratingly pretty girl with blue eyes. I lift off the couch and stomp towards my room, kicking the door frame on the way like it was the apartment's fault I'm a dumb ass.

I've done this a dozen times: ask the girl out, have a good night and if I was lucky enough, we would come back to my place and have some fun. Most girls didn't even end up staying the night and none of them ever led to a lasting relationship. Even though I didn't necessarily want the same pattern for Emma, I don't understand why I couldn't get past step one with her.

Changing into a black pair of shorts and a grey t-shirt, I dart past Chris to the front door.

"I'm going for a run," I call over my shoulder and pull open the door into the sunny afternoon.

I can't articulate Chris's answer floating in from the living room so I choose to ignore him, placing my headphones in my ears and slipping my phone into my pocket.

Thank god I'm a runner, I tell myself. This whole thing is pissing me off and I'm thankful I have a healthy outlet for my stress. I walk down the steps and turn left towards the park in the center of town. Hopefully a run will help clear my mind from thoughts of Emma... but I doubt it.