The Best is Yet to Come

Twenty One: Emma

The best part of the movie was when Noah reached his arm across the couch to place his hand on top of mine.

...Or was it the part when he moved his fingers to my wrist and gently pulled me against his chest?

No. The best part was when Noah buried his nose in my hair and nuzzled my ear. That was when I nearly lost control of my breathing.

I'm disappointed when the movie is over, not that I was really watching it. I have very little interest in anything when Noah is touching me. When the credits start to roll, I turn the TV off and we lay still, Noah's arms wrapped around me, my head resting against the crook of his shoulder. I don't say anything, careful not to disturb the comfortable silence, trying to preserve the moment for as long as possible. I just want to stay in his arms a little while longer.

Noah begins to lightly trace his fingers up and down my arm, dragging behind a tingling trail of heat in their wake. His lips are in my hair, his breath slow and controlled. I'm not nearly as calm as he is and in an effort to conceal the loud thumping in my chest, I ask Noah another question, "What's your happiest memory?"

Noah lifts his nose from my hair but continues to burn designs onto my skin. After a few moments he takes a deep breath and begins to speak, "My mom has always been the most realistic in the family but my dad was the dreamer. When I started applying to colleges my mother pushed for a business degree like my brother so that when the time came, my father could teach us the trade and we could take over the family business together," Noah says quietly. When he pauses, all I can hear is his steady breathing.

'It's always been the plan for us- just like it was for my father, my grandfather and every other Dean that came before us. But unlike my brother, I had no interest in wasting away at a desk. I told my dad first, figuring he would be the most supportive. I was right. He told me life was too short, that I had to do something I loved every day or I'd regret it when it was too late. And when the time came, he fought for me and for what I wanted He sided with me against my mother... right until he couldn't anymore." Noah stops but he doesn't need to say anymore.

"When did he pass?" I ask gently.

"This month, four years ago," Noah whispers and my heart sinks. "Stomach cancer. I guess it's not the happiest memory I have, but it stuck out."

In an effort to try and comfort him, I turn around in Noah's arms and lay my head against his chest. I wrap my arms around his side in an awkward hug and just hold him. I can't remember the last time I was so close to another person. He's so warm. I close my eyes and listen to the rhythmic beats of his heart.

"I've never told anyone that," Noah whispers and wraps his arms around my shoulders. His shirt is soft and I inhale wood and spice. I fight back against the tears threatening to spill. I'd nearly forgotten how it felt to hug.

"Thank you," I whisper, choking back a flood of emotions.

"For what?" Noah mumbles and I freeze, nearly forgetting what we were talking about. I cough and fidget with a button on Noah's shirt.

"For opening up," I croak. "I know how hard it can be to share painful memories."

Noah buries his face in my hair again and mumbles, "It's easier with you."

While I've been in relationships before in my other life, nothing has ever compared to this connection with Noah. And even though a part of me is trying to be afraid of it, to find an excuse to run, I can't. I'm too warm in Noah's arms. I'm too happy.

And for the first time in my life, I stay still, sink deeper into his chest and enjoy it.

We lay like that and talk for a few more hours. I learn more about his best friend Chris and scold him when Noah refers to him as his "bro from another ho". Noah just laughs and says no one else in the world knew him better.

At some point during the night, I repositioned myself on my elbows so I could glance at Noah's face and try to be subtle as I admire him. He has one of those rare smiles that could make even the darkest of days seem bright.

I take a mental photograph each time Noah flashes me a grin, determined to save the images in as much detail as I can. I want to be able to think of it later after Noah leaves and I'm alone with my thoughts. When I inevitably start to feel like shit again.

It's nearly midnight when I notice the time. And even though it killed me to do it, I had to ask Noah to leave.

"I guess this is the part of the night where I kick you out." I'm sitting lengthwise on the couch, my feet now in Noah's lap. He rubs them absentmindedly, squeezing out the knots that come with years of cashiering. I could get used to this.

Noah fakes a pout and I bite my lip, pleased to see that he doesn't seem to want to leave, either. Noah's warm hands wrap around my ankles and he tugs on my legs, sliding my body down closer to him. Soon my face is level with his and I realize I'm practically sitting in his lap. Noah pinches the curl dangling in front of my face and tucks it behind my ear.

"Only if you promise to go out with me again," he breathes. Noah gently cups my face and I can't help but lean my cheek into his palm. I don't even have the strength to verbally agree to his deal. I'm putty in this boy's hands.

I stare Noah's parted lips, the two of us practically panting. I can't believe what his presence does to me. I mean, I should be able to breathe, right??

It's agony. I can't take the tension anymore. Pressure builds up inside me, threatening to combust, so I do the only thing I know will bring me relief; I tilt my chin up and move closer to his heartbreakingly beautiful face, close enough to feel Noah's breath hot on my cheeks.

Kiss me. I silently beg. Please kiss me.

Why isn't he kissing me??

Noah's eyes are glued to my lips, his brow furrowed like he was frustrated with something. And finally, moving painfully slow, he dips his head and lightly presses his soft lips against mine.

Kissing Noah is unlike anything I have ever felt. His lips are smooth and gentle, his every movement slow and calculated. One touch and I start to melt, my lips molding onto his, trying to follow his lead. Something warm grows in my chest, filling me up until I no longer feel like a hollow shell. Noah's lips feel even better than any fantasy I'd allowed myself to imagine the past week and I sigh, gripping his arms tighter.

Thankfully, Noah has much more self control than I do. It takes everything I have not to smash my face into his. I wrap my hand around the side of his neck and hear Noah make a sound at the back of his throat. That's when he breaks our connection and pulls away.

I'm breathless- my chest heaving like I've run up a flight of stairs. I think I actually forgot to breathe but I'm too intoxicated by him to be embarrassed. Everyone deserves to be kissed like that at least once in their life.

It's a good thing Noah remembered where we were and what we were doing because I definitely don't. He slides my legs off of his and stands up, releasing a low laugh when he sees my face.

"Good night, Emma. I'll text you tomorrow," he says, planting a final kiss on the top of my head. Noah lets himself out, leaving me stunned and breathless on the couch.