The Best is Yet to Come

Nineteen: Emma

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A heart monitor invades my subconscious. Everything hurts. I try to open my eyes but my eyelids are too heavy.

I can hear distant voices, urgent and sharp. It sounds like someone is barking orders at the other people.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Emma, honey? Emma, can you hear me?" A female voice floats through my conscience, it's the first clear sentence I hear.

I try to answer but all that comes out is a painful groan.

"Shhh, baby. Don't try to talk." The voice says.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I feel a pinch on my left arm and within seconds, a rush of warmth crashes through my body and everything is quiet once again.

*******************

My alarm startles me awake. I sit up, resting back on my elbows. My head is heavy and my eyes ache. I nearly forgot that I had an opening shift today. I should have thought about that before I stayed up until the ass crack of dawn talking to Noah. Thank God I had pre-set my alarm.

After our date, I was amazed by how much I wanted to reach out to him. It took every fiber of my being to make it through that shift. It got to the point where I contemplated leaving my phone in Glory's office. It was hard to concentrate on book inventory when I kept impulsively looking over at my phone.

I was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was for me to be with Noah yesterday. I was so nervous for our date but once we met in the coffee shop, the butterflies in my stomach turned from apprehension to excitement; and by the time we were sitting in the park, I was sure that I wanted to go out with him again.

Two hours into my shift yesterday and I promised myself I could text Noah when I got home that evening. I was a block away from my apartment before I had pulled out my phone. Close enough.

I learned a lot about Noah last night. His middle name is William, after his grandfather. Noah has broken his arms three times in his life, his right arm twice, from playing sports in his youth. He's terrified of bees, hates hearing people chew their food and considers himself a video game connoisseur. But I can't stop thinking about what he'd said when I asked him if he'd ever been in love.

Almost all of his responses had been immediate, like he was doing nothing else but sitting and waiting with his phone in his hands. But when I asked him that, his response came much later than the others and all I got was:

I thought I was, once.

Considering everything I'd heard from people, including Sarah, I wasn't surprised by this. If he really has been as... active as people say, I can't imagine he loved any of those girls. Sarah even said that he rarely went on a second date, though I try not to read too much into this considering I'm supposed to be making him dinner after work today. Does tonight count as a second date?

I scribble down a list of ingredients I need to pick up after work on a post-it and dash into the bathroom to get ready for work. Fifteen minutes later, I snatch my bag and my keys off the hook by the door and glance at my watch. I'll have to stop for an extra large coffee on my way to work if I'm going to make it though the day..

********************

With help from a lethal concoction of caffeine and anxious nerves, the day passes quickly. Business starts to pick up as the weather gets warmer. Customers come in looking for the perfect book for reading on the beach or a story to keep them entertained while traveling. Thank God today was busy; it kept my mind from obsessively thinking about tonight. Between darting around the store with my cart and helping Sarah man the registers, I was too busy to feel the goosebumps on my skin buzzing in anticipation.

I walk to the grocery store after work, picking up the ingredients for lasagna, tasty but hard to fuck up, just in case. As I pass by the aisle, I grab a bottle of wine as well. I'm not sure if Noah will drink it but I felt better having something to offer. I'm thankful my cashier isn't chatty as I chew on my lip and try not to look sick.

By the time I get home it's four in the afternoon. I start prepping the ingredients and soon place a heavy dish in the oven. I take a few minutes to tidy things up in my small studio then check the damage in the bathroom mirror. Feeling like I don't look too bad, I swipe some fresh mascara on my lashes, curl the dull pieces in my hair and proceed to battle with myself in front of the closet for something to wear.

It's nearly five when I hear a rhythmic knock at the door. I stare at the chipping paint, the only thing separating me from the boy in the hallway who miraculously thinks I'm worth chasing after. I reach for the knob, force my features into a smile so that I don't scare him off, and pull open the door.

Noah is standing in the hall, looking handsome in a sky blue button down and khakis. His eyes light up when they meet mine and he flashes a brilliant smile, holding a fresh bouquet of yellow flowers.

It was like something out of a romance on TV. I bite my lip to keep myself quiet and stare at the flowers in his hand.

 Noah holds them out to me and shrugs, "It's rule number #17 in 100 Ways to Get the Girl."

I can't hold back an embarrassing snort of laughter as I take them, stepping back to allow Noah to walk past me and into my home. Noah's uncanny ability to make me laugh helps soothe some of my nerves and I take a deep breath before shutting the door gently behind me.