Chapter 15 Noah

"Why didn't you tell us you almost died, Noah Lawrence Reed?!"

I've never seen my mom's face so red with rage. It's suddenly possible her ears might emit fire, which would make her look like the gelatin dragonhead treats she made this past Halloween. For the record, they tasted a lot better than they looked.

But the last thing I wanted to do today was confront a living gelatin dragonhead. "Mom, I didn't almost die."

"That's what it said! That's—That's what you said in your own article that you wrote up! Do you want me to read it to you to jog your memory, young man?" She ejects a bizarre sound from her body I can only describe as something between a crow squawking and a cat hissing with demonic anger. "I was such a flippin' fool that whole day long, goin' about my business, not knowin' in the least what'd almost happened to my baby, my poor, sweet baby!"

"I knew you'd overreact and didn't want to worry you."

"Do you know how embarrassing it was today, to get the paper and read about my own son's near-death experience? I just ‘bout fell out of my darned body! What if I had gone out and talked to the neighbors beforehand? Y'know how Miss Clair is! She always reads the paper first thing and chews my ear off ‘bout it. What if I went out there to get some fresh air and … and looked like an idiot, not knowin' about—about my own—ooh—!" She slaps a hand to her forehead suddenly. "Elmer, hon, I'm ‘bout to pass right out."

My dad, calm as ever, comes to her side and guides her to a chair at the kitchen table where he rubs her back. He peers at me with a sad look in his eyes. "Noah, really, this is …" He sighs. "This is so out of character for you."

"Articles are supposed to be embellished and over the top," I point out. "It's how you keep the reader's attention."

"You still should've told us," says my dad.

I cross my arms and shrink into my turtle shell, feeling a cold combination of shame and frustration.

That frustration is quickly interrupted by the sound of deep, rhythmic thumping. My parents and I look up at the same time, hearing it. Even my mom perks up, her dramatic fit ending in a swift instant upon picking up the noise.

It persists.

Thump … thump … thump.

My mom is first to fly from her seat and rush to the window. "It's Cole!" she exclaims with a gasp. "The sweet boy came back to fix the mailbox, just like he said he would! What a darling! I have to go out and insist on him stayin' for dinner." She peers back at me. "To thank him for saving my son's life, apparently," she adds somewhat frostily, then sees herself out the front door.

After yet another disappointed look from the self-appointed mayor of Windville himself, I leave my dad's side and move to the window. My mom meets Cole by the mailbox, already erected and in place. Cole's face is bright and cheery as he greets her, looking so sweet and handsome as he always does.

With the busy and stressful day I've had, Cole is a welcomed sight on my lawn.

I can still feel Burton breathing down my neck at the office earlier this afternoon. "This is just the beginning," he had said as he leaned against my desk, once again threatening a tall stack of folders that sat precariously next to him. What is it with me and stacks of folders on my desk? "We'll be runnin' more issues than usual this month, so keep them fingers movin' and don't stop, not for a second. Patrick is out delivering. Heard a stand was already depleted on Main Street. Whatever his stomach bug was, I guess it's passed, thank the Lord, because we sure need all the hands we can get. Speaking of, have your tiny tippy-tappin' hands finished the H. T. M. I. java coffee layout stuff? My dad's on my ass about them." After a breath, I responded, "It's HTML and JavaScript, and I should be finished soon, sir." But Burton walked away halfway through my reply, back on his phone: "Hey, buddy! What's goin' on? Nah, I can't pull away right now, super busy day. Wait, what? Cindy will be there? Damn it, just my luck. Alright, I'll see what I can do. Uh, did she say anything about me, by chance?"

Tamika was only there for part of the morning before she was sent out on some errands. "I swear," she said to me as she swung past my desk on her way out, "if I didn't know better, I'd say I'm a full-time employee rather than an intern, the way Burton has me doing this and that. Oh, do you want me to pick you up anything on my way back, by the way? I'll be hitting up TS's, too, so coffee, pastry, ice cream, hot dog, you name it, it's in your mouth."

I bit on my finger, wondering if Cole was on any menu. Cole and what he did to me last night. Cole and his tongue and his big hands and his piercing eyes. Cole, Cole, Cole.

That was all I wanted in my mouth.

On my mouth.

Around my mouth.

Everything to do with that beautiful man and my mouth.

Has there really been nothing else on my mind all day but him?

The front door opens, startling me out of my memories of my day at the Spruce Press building, and in come Cole and my mother, who herself seems surprisingly placated. "Well, well," she sings as she reappraises me, as gentle as a snowflake. "Cole filled me in on all the details you had failed to mention. Apparently your incident is the real reason you had gone over to the Strongs' that night." Her face contorts, turning at once giddy. "My son … and the Mayor Strong workin' together? On this big ol' pageant event I just read about? Be still my dancin' heart, I think this just went from the worst day to the best." She pats Cole's cheek. "At least someone here knows how to properly communicate."

He nods at her. "You're welcome, Mrs. Reed, though if I had an opinion on it, I can understand why Noah held back. He cares about you so much, he didn't want to burden you." Then he gazes at me, flashing his beautiful smile.

I can't help but return the smile, swooning.

If Cole wasn't already enough of a hero, my knight just went and saved me from the gelatin dragonhead's wrath.

"And as much as I'd love to take you up on that dinner offer, Mrs. Reed," Cole goes on, coming up and throwing an arm over my back, startling me. "I was hoping to take this guy out tonight."

I blink and look at him. "You were?" I mumble.

My mom seems to find that notion a thousand times better than any dinner or terrifying treat she could have concocted, the way her face explodes into glitter. "That is mighty fine with me! I know my son is in good hands when he's with you. You're a fine, fine young man, Cole. The finest. Oh, how fine you've become!"

If she uses the word "fine" one more time … "Mom, I'm gonna buy you a thesaurus for your birthday."

"Go on, go on," she urges, practically pushing us out the door. "Don't let us stop you! We'll be quite alright here. Don't even need to call us when you get to wherever it is you're goin'. When you're with Cole, I know you'll be as dandy as a dandelion. Go, go! The night is only so long and you've got fun to have!"

Why is she talking like we're nearing midnight already and my carriage is about to turn back into a pumpkin? It's barely five. The sun is up and bright. My mother must have laced her latest treats with a bucket of sugar for the way she's hopping around everywhere. She's even sweating. She just wiped her brow off with the back of her hand for the fifth time. There are droplets of sweat literally hanging from the end of her nose.

But Cole, in his amazingly accepting and loving way, smiles at my mom like she's the greatest human ever. "I'll be happy to take your son off of your hands and keep him nice and safe tonight."

"Not too safe!" she replies happily, tears of joy in her eyes.

This is all a bit too much for me. "I need to freshen up," I tell the gleeful pair of them, then slip away down the hall to my room.

Thankfully, the awkwardness only lasts until I'm out the door. As soon as I'm in Cole's car and we're driving away, I find my heart so light, it could float off into the stratosphere. The giddiness I felt all last night is back with a happy vengeance, causing my skin to prickle with anticipation and my face to do this weird thing where I feel like I'm wearing a permanent smile.

"Does it feel like I kidnapped you a little bit?" asks Cole as he turns onto 2nd Street. "Not that your parents seemed to mind."

"The one or two times I actually went to someone's birthday party back in school," I mutter, "I was convinced my mom bribed their family with baked goods. She'd literally pay for me to have a social life. She would sell her soul. She wants me out of the house doing things. She even considered hiring a therapist once because she thought I spent too much time in my room on the computer. I mean, has she met Dad? He plays with trains." I huff and gaze out the window. We pass by Hadley's Hardware, sharing a parking lot with its smaller neighbor Crafty Carson where my dad works part-time—and feeds his aforementioned train addiction. "Not that we could afford a therapist."

"Well, I like you and your family just the way y'all are."

I look at Cole, watching as he drives with confidence, wearing a proud smile on his face. There's something about his expression that always puts me at ease. I believe every word he says. Even my own pesky self-doubts are no match for his sincerity.

I'm starting to wish we really were friends back in the day.

I had no idea Cole was planning for us to have a night out on the town. But now that I'm out of the house, I can't imagine what else I'd be doing. Sitting in my room thinking of him? Lounging on my patio with my work laptop, distracted by thoughts of him? Just staring at a wall daydreaming of me and Cole kissing heatedly?

"I figured after your hard day of work, you'd like to kick back and relax," says Cole as we turn onto Main Street, "and last night, you mentioned it's been a long time since you've been to a movie, and there happens to be a fantasy one that came out last weekend, so I thought, hey, maybe this would be totally your thing."

I relish the idea of cuddling next to Cole in a movie theater.

But also: "If it's the one about the demon sorcerer, I'm gonna want to pay attention," I warn him. "That means we can't be bad in the theater."

"Bad? … Bad?" Cole laughs. "What do you think I'm gonna do? Throw popcorn at the people in the front row?"

"I meant …" Suddenly I wonder if it's presumptuous of me to assume he plans to make out with me like a horny schoolboy in the back of the auditorium. As usual, I'm overthinking it. "Never mind," I mumble as we pull into the movie theater parking lot.

That's the last of my inquiries before we're standing in front of the concession stand and he's ordering us two sodas and a big bucket of popcorn to share. "Did you know my boss Bobby used to work here years ago?" Cole tells me as we wait on the popcorn to be scooped. "Apparently he was fired after throwing himself over this very counter to punch Anthony Myers square in the face."

"Actually," says the concession worker, setting the popcorn on the counter, "it was Jimmy who punched Anthony in the face. It was bad. I kept telling Bobby he shouldn't invite his boyfriend to his workplace. Then again, they weren't boyfriends yet." He gives Cole a smirk. "Don't act like you don't know who I am, man."

Cole gasps. "Oh, shit, sorry, Vince! I didn't recognize you in a fancy shirt and bowtie," he teases. "How've you been?"

"How cool's this? I'm the supervisor now," says Vince with a pinch of pride as he butters our popcorn without even looking, expertly twirling the bucket round and round under the pump. "But Mr. Lemon cut back on weekday staff, so I'm just a glorified everywhere-man in a tie. I'll probably be the guy cleaning up your theater, too. Hey, cool article I read about you two today."

Cole and I both appear caught by surprise. "You read it?" asks Cole with a lift of an eyebrow.

"Skimmed, if I'm being honest. Bored earlier, no customers. It was cool to read about two guys from my graduating class, though. And now one of them's gonna be in a male pageant? That's wild." He slides the popcorn and sodas across the counter. Cole pulls out his wallet to pay. "Now, I can see you being one of the bachelors, but Anthony Myers …? That a joke? C'mon, who's the real third bachelor? Tell me." He leans across the counter. "I'll keep it secret, because I sure as shit know it isn't Anthony. I checked my phone three times today to make sure it wasn't April Fools."

Cole chuckles. "It really is him, believe it or not. Mrs. Strong's got a soft spot for the guy."

Vince shakes his head as he rings us up. "I just might have to attend to watch him strut his stuff on a stage in a tuxedo with a straight face. And what about you, Cole? You sure you can handle it? You always struck me as a guy who keeps to himself."

Cole glances at me, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I think I can manage," he decides as he observes me. I feel like I can read all the words he isn't saying, nestled between the lines, and I smile.

"Well, here's your practice," says Vince as he hands Cole his card back, then peers past us. "Seems like you've already got some adoring fans."

After a moment of confusion, we turn. There are two arcade crane games near the front entrance, and it's right next to them that we spot three teenage girls staring at us. Upon being caught, two of them look away, blushing, while the third, more daring, gives Cole a flirty wave. Cole politely waves back.

"Enjoy your show," says Vince with due irony.

Cole and I glance at each other uncertainly.

The girls at the crane machine are only the beginning. When we make our way to our movie, a neighboring auditorium lets out, and it feels as if every set of eyes is upon us. Even when we make it to our seats inside our theater, I swear there are people through the dark searching for us, even when there's no one there.

"I should've realized that even if some people don't read the paper, they still talk," I point out, clutching my drink and gnawing on the end of the straw anxiously. "I doubt those teenagers even read the paper. Let alone read at all."

"Hey, don't worry about it. I'm sure you and I can deal with a few benign glances now and then, can't we?" He throws his arm around the back of my seat unexpectedly. "I think I'm gonna have a tough time paying attention to the movie, though …"

I take a breath. Maybe Cole's right. "I won't." I scoop a handful of popcorn into my mouth. The lights are already dimming for the previews. "I've seen so many commercials for this movie since last year. They've been advertising this forever."

His arm slips slyly from the back of the seat to my shoulders. "Is that so? Lucky you, then, finally getting to see it."

"What're you doing?"

"Being cuddly."

"People can see us."

"No one's watching." He leans over the armrest and places a kiss on my cheek, grinning. "Do you even know how happy I am that I've got you to myself tonight?"

"I'm happy, too, but—"

"The movie hasn't started yet. It's just the previews. No one cares about the next superhero flick. They're all the same."

My eyes keep dancing around in the darkness. Theses glasses of mine sure don't make it any easier. "I care … a little."

"Don't you want me to kiss you?"

"Of course, but—"

"But what?"

"After the movie."

"Can I steal, like, maybe one or two kisses in the middle of the movie, too? Just during the slow parts."

"There won't be slow parts. Every scene is going to be rich, nuanced, and ripe with character development."

"Noah, it's over two hours long."

"Two hours of character development."

His mouth is right against my ear. "Are you sure I can't just kiss you a couple of times? Look at them as a sweet replacement for the candy we didn't get from the concession stand."

Before I can protest, he dives into my neck with an assault of kisses. I can't help but let out a giggle of surprise before my body—annoyingly—reacts in its very human way of being turned on by the electricity spell Cole casts on me. I fight him off for all of half a measly second before I give in with an embarrassing moan.

The moan feels as if it shakes the auditorium with its volume.

I slap a hand to my mouth, mortified.

Cole pulls away as if nothing happened. "Alright, I will behave now," he decides, then scoops a mighty handful of popcorn into his mouth and obediently faces the screen. He even pulls his arm out from behind my back at once, respecting my demands.

In an instant, we're just two buddies at the movies sharing a bucket of popcorn.

And by the time the previews end and the movie starts, I find myself wishing he hadn't been so respectful.

Now all I can think about is Cole devouring me in this dark theater. This movie I've been looking forward to seeing is at once secondary. No one's watching us. No one's sitting behind us at all. As the opening credits start, bringing in the grand sweeping music of the soundtrack and a beautiful view of a castle surrounded by a dark, enchanted forest, I find myself dreaming of when during the movie he might surprise me with a kiss.

And where he might put his hands.

Or his mouth.

"I've changed my mind," I whisper in the dark.

He flinches, barely hearing me over the music. "Hmm?"

"You can kiss me during the slow parts."

"Oh, yeah? Hmm … alright." I see him smirk proudly, like he just won a prize.

I bite my lip as my heart dances, happy anticipation chasing its way through me, as I settle into my seat and pay attention to the movie—or as much attention as I can possibly muster.

As it turns out, much to my surprise, the movie has very few, if any, slow parts, and I do not sense any surprise kisses coming.

It's half an hour in, the plot of the young and dashing demon sorcerer is underway, and Cole is still respecting me. No kisses.

An hour in, Cole and I both are completely engrossed in the movie, our eyes wide and popcorn bucket clutched. The sorcerer is in a pickle. He has been captured by a clever trap set by the brave and handsome broadsword-wielding paladin. Now the paladin is ready to complete his plan of slaying the sorcerer once and for all, of course ignoring all of the sexual tension that has been brewing to unforgivable heights between them.

Much like the sexual tension brewing between me and Cole.

Doesn't the bullheaded paladin realize his power-hungry king he serves is manipulating him? Can't he see the demon sorcerer isn't evil, that his powers come from a curse laid upon his family by a demon that his parents foolishly betrayed? When will the two of them realize they were meant to save each other?

The paladin presses his sword to the young sorcerer's throat. Their faces draw close. "I won't hear another one of your lies," the righteous paladin insists, his voice shaking. "Not one more."

Emotion swells in the young sorcerer's deep green eyes. "You can kill me if it so pleases you," he chokes, sweat on his brow, "but then you'll never learn the truth about Janyyra."

The paladin clenches his jaw, shaking. "How dare you utter my sister's name."

"I am the only one who can save her." There is pleading in the sorcerer's sweet voice. "You once told me you could see the truth if you stared into someone's eyes long enough. Look into my eyes, you stubborn man. Look and see the truth for yourself."

The hunky paladin glares into his eyes, teeth bared.

The young sorcerer stares back, his plush lips parted, ready.

And the second their faces rush toward each other, the whole theater goes dark, aisle lighting included, and a resounding and alarming pop noise ejects from the speakers.

I clench up at once as everyone and everything around me is cast into darkness. Pitch black. Nothingness.

My heart gallops. "What's … What's going on?" I whisper.

Cole's arm comes around me protectively. "Don't worry, we're all okay, everything's fine."

"D-Did the projector break?"

"I'm guessing it's the power, since the lights went out, too." I feel Cole's other hand shuffle around inside his pocket, and then there's a glow from his phone, bringing his face into existence. He looks at me, then gently rubs my back. "See? We're okay."

I glance down and realize I've clutched his legs with my hands like bird talons. I quickly let them go. "Uh … s-sorry."

He chuckles, as if finding it cute. "You can grab on to me all you want, Noah. Doesn't bother me one bit."

I stare into his eyes, catching the glint of light from his phone. After a moment, his phone goes dark, and he quickly taps on it to wake it up again, bringing his smile back to life.

The murmuring throughout the theater around us indicates the handful of others who were similarly glued to the edges of their seats, waiting for that timely kiss between the leading men that never quite came.

The doors behind us are thrust open abruptly. The beam of a flashlight cuts through the dark like the beacon of a UFO. "Sorry, everyone!" calls out the familiar voice of Vince. "Unfortunately, we're experiencing a technical difficulty with the power. It may take ten or fifteen to fix. Or possibly an hour. If you're unable to wait, my box office attendant will be happy to give you a refund or rain check. I apologize for the inconvenience, guys."

Cole takes my hand and gives it an apologetic squeeze.

As tense as I am, I make myself smile back.

As it turns out, the issue is more complicated than expected, resulting in the whole block losing power. So Cole and I opt to take a rain check each and make our way out of the theater with the other guests in the dark.

"What a bummer," says Cole as we head out the doors of the building into the street. "I'm sorry that didn't work out."

"It's okay," I assure him. "I'm just glad to be out of that dark and creepy theater."

"I know."

I peer at him, curious.

It's then that we pass by the same trio of girls from before, out front near the parking lot, only this time, they're more confident in unabashedly ogling Cole. It doesn't seem to faze him. He just gives them a polite nod as we pass. I'm not acknowledged at all.

But with Cole walking by my side, I feel anything but invisible. The way he put his arm around me in the theater the moment the lights went out. The way he walks by my side right now, as if he's still guiding me through the dark, caring for me.

How does he know what I need the moment I need it?

Less than an hour later finds the pair of us occupying a table at a local favorite restaurant called Country Lovin'. Even here, I spot seven different people turn their heads and watch Cole walk by as if he's made of diamonds. I don't know if he actually knows any of them personally, but he is nothing but respectful to them as we pass by and are sat in a booth by the front windows. Though occasionally I catch one or two people still glancing our way after we place our order, I follow Cole's lead and try not to mind them—even if one happens to be our own server, glancing at us from the opened kitchen door and whispering to one of the cooks.

It turns out to be no matter, because my attention becomes completely occupied the instant we're brought our food.

I guess I sorely underestimated how hungry I am.

"Slow down, you'll choke!" teases Cole, laughing. "The crepes aren't gonna run away from you!"

"Sorry," I mutter back, my mouth full.

He smiles at me. "How is it? Are you enjoying your breakfast-for-dinner?"

"How'd you know this was exactly what I wanted?" I cut a big bite of heavenly crepe and scoop it right into my mouth, closing my eyes as I savor it. "Ken really knows how to make them."

"The Loves know what they're doing," agrees Cole, smiling at me from across the table, handsome as ever. "And for the record, we talked about our favorite things last night while cuddling, and you did mention intensely craving breakfast for dinner. Twice."

I look up. "I did?"

"And you also pointed out that this place always gives you just one squirt of whipped cream with your crepes," he adds, "which is why I made sure to ask for extra when you put in your order."

I stop chewing, gazing back at him.

He's right. He totally did ask for extra whipped cream.

I didn't realize he did that for me.

"You educated me quite a bit about all the things you like." He studies me with a twinkle in his eyes, then curls up his lips. "I … sure hope I can manage to stay on that list. Not to presume I'm on that list, of course," he quickly adds, "but … you didn't turn down my offer to go on a date with me tonight, so I figured you have to like me at least a little."

"This is a date?"

My question makes Cole's smile broaden with near laughter. "What else is dinner and a movie? Well, dinner and half a movie. We're going to finish it the first chance we get. Noah …" He leans forward, his handsome smile persisting. "I just want you to have the best night ever, all of the time. I want you to believe without a doubt that I care deeply about you. I think you deserve that level of devotion, and I think you've deserved it for a long … long time."

I find myself struck by the sweet, adoring look in his eyes, unable to think, speak, or take another bite. What else can I do but just stare back, mesmerized by Cole and his never-ending quest to make me happy? What did I do to make him think so highly of me?

"This is a date," I then agree, softening.

"You bet your cute butt it is." He smiles, drumming a hand on the table, then twists his head up. "I really like this song they've got playing on the speakers."

"It's Pink Floyd," I state with my mouth full, identifying it.

"I know. My grandparents listened to this album a lot when they were first dating back in the mid-70s, my Nan told me. This song and album were dear to her heart … ‘Wish You Were Here'. After my grandpa passed, my Nan would hear this song and cry." He hums along to the woeful melody with surprising accuracy, keeping in the key. I pause my chewing for a moment, taken by the quality of his humming. Did I even know he could keep pitch? "My mom loves Pink Floyd, too," he adds. "She used to listen to them a lot while I was growing up. Mmm, this song … totally my new favorite jam."

I watch him with renewed awe.

I'm learning so much about Cole tonight.

"My mom used to listen to a lot of Pink Floyd, too," I confess. "Still does, actually, from time to time."

"That so? Sounds like our moms have more in common than just day-drinking." He smiles at me across the table, then winks and seamlessly returns to humming, sneaking in a lyric near the end of the song: "Wish you were here, mmm …" He shakes his head, happy. "Yeah, this hits the spot."

Still locking eyes with Cole, mesmerized, I pick up my fork—only for it to slip clumsily between my fingers and tumble down to the floor. "Oh, crap."

Cole quits humming at once and is quick to react, picking up my fork immediately. "It's okay, I'll get you another. Just sit tight!" Then he heads off to fetch our server as the music plays on.

I watch him go, confounded by his kindness.

I think the reason I find him so enthralling is because in some ways, I can't explain his devotion to me any more than I can my own reaction to it.

I've never felt this before. The puppy-dog eyes. The fluttering heart. Hearing Cole hum a tune. What in the hell is all of this?

It's unfamiliar territory.

Never before encountered lapses in thought.

Uncharted emotional terrain.

I've never spent so much time analyzing behavior before—my own or someone else's. I've never had a reason to. No one in my life has spent so much energy and attention on me.

But it's more than just his thoughtfulness. It's his continued dedication to me. His focus on the details. It's the way he listens to me and encourages me to open up to him. He knows things about me that I wasn't even aware of myself. It must be why he's so quick to anticipate my needs, from extra whipped cream to how he put a comforting arm around me at the movies when the power failed. Did I also tell him last night that I have a thing about dark places? That it's why I have three bright, colorful nightlights in my room? I hope they didn't bother him when he was trying to sleep last night. I'm used to them and didn't think to ask.

All I know is that Cole listens to me.

He appreciates me and all my weirdness.

I hope I can show him, even in the littlest way, that I appreciate him just as much right back.

After our meal—which he insists on paying for, as this is "his night of treating me"—we take a stroll around the block and end up at Tumbleweeds, a bar and diner I've always avoided. Cole says they have great virgin drinks if I'm not a drinker, and they even have some pool tables in the back of the room. I warn him I'm not very good, but he says, "Pool's just math and geometry. You've got those skills built-in already. Don't sell yourself short!"

And that's how I get roped into a round of pool with Cole.

It's also when I learn he's got another side to him I've never seen before. After a few mishaps with my aim at first, I get a lucky hit, which is then followed by another, and before I know it, I've sunk five balls into the pockets. Cole stands at the side of the table, astounded. When it finally becomes his turn, his face twists with determination. "I see how it is," he mutters to himself as he lines up his shot, squints with focus, then shoots—and misses. "Dang stick, it slipped. I need more chalk. Or a new stick." When it's his turn again, I have to suppress my laughter as Cole, with all the confidence in the world, struts up to the table to take his shot—and misses even worse than before. "I've got smoke in my eyes," he decides with a scowl. "I don't do good with smoke. I'm allergic."

Maybe playing pool against Cole is about to prove way more entertaining than previously predicted.

"Alright, alright, beginner's luck," he decides as he squares up the balls with the triangle for another game. "But this next one, I am gonna own your butt."

I am sitting front row center for this adorably competitive side of Cole Harding. "We'll see about that."

"Yeah, we will," he agrees with a smirk, grabs his stick, aims, and breaks. We both watch as the balls scatter like startled cats looking for places to hide. Not a single one goes into a pocket.

I come up. "Stripes," I call, take aim, then hit.

I sink the eleven ball.

And then the fourteen, which ended up by a corner pocket, as if waiting for me.

And the ten.

"Alright, fine," says Cole, coming up to my side by the table. "If you wanted to humiliate me, you could have at least divulged to me that you're secretly a billiards prodigy."

I sink the twelve, then shrug innocently at him. "It's just math and geometry, right? I have the skills … built-in."

He glares playfully at me.

Well, I think it's playful.

"Using my own words against me," Cole notes with a pursing of his lips. Then he smirks challengingly at me and brings his face close. "I think I like this side of you."

Our sides are touching. Our lips are inches apart. I smirk back at him. "I was just thinking the same thing about you."

In this moment, I could literally forget every last person here. It is just me and Cole and the sticks we're gripping and the breath in our mouths.

I really could kiss him right now.

Abandon my own rule and put my hands on him.

I don't care about the game. I don't care about the article or the upcoming pageant at the McPhersons'. I just want to hold him close to my body and feel what I felt last night again.

Something about not being able to … makes me want it more.

Then I remind myself why I put the rule in place at all. Why I insisted that we keep what we have a secret from the public. Why it is better that the two of us not invite the minds and opinions of the town into our private lives any more than they already are.

"You're that Mr. Perfect Cole guy, ain't ya?"

We both turn from each other to find a woman, maybe thirty or so, tall, blonde, and pale, in tight jeans and a beige peasant top.

Cole adopts his usual politeness. "Sure am."

"Oh, you're so much darned sexier than your photo!" she says to him in her deep, syrupy drawl. "Whoever took them photos of you for the paper didn't do you any justice."

I frown.

Cole takes a step in front of me, which I realize is a protective gesture. "Thank you for that. But I happen to like the photos. Love them, actually. In fact …" He slaps a hand to my shoulder, startling me. "This is the photographer right here, who I think captured me in a far better light than I see myself. He's also the guy who wrote that awesome article you read."

Her eyes grow. "Oh, shit, I didn't mean no offense! I just—"

"None taken," I mutter quietly.

"I just meant you look so much better in person. You look … You look better in motion, movin' around, all in the natural. Shit, I just made it sound worse, didn't I? Look, I'm not hittin' on you," she adds rather suddenly, lifting a hand. "I am well aware you're exclusively for the men with no wiggle room. It's my brother who's the gay one, actually, my younger brother. He's been called a hunk before. His ex broke his heart and he swore off love. Rough around the edges in all the best ways. Gets his hands dirty on the land. I think you guys would be so picture perfect together." She flicks her fingers in the air upon saying those words—picture perfect—to cite the article. "I'll make sure he's at the event and puts in top dollar at that big ol' auction to win a date with you. Just wait. You'll lose your breath when you see him. You'll choke, I swear. Is that weird to say about my own brother? I'm a little buzzed."

Cole parts his lips to speak, doesn't, then swallows with visible discomfort, appearing at a surprising loss of how to respond.

I realize that my presence might be partially responsible for his paralysis, so I decide to rescue him: "It's appreciated. The more he bids, the better, ma'am. Every dollar helps out the town."

Cole peers at me, surprised.

The woman chuckles at me. "Well, if that ain't the truth," she says rather spiritedly. "And please, don't ever call me ma'am again. Every time I'm called that, I get a gray."

A husky man in a plaid shirt appears from behind her without warning. "What're you doin' harrassin' these young men, Mae?" He slides an arm around her waist and pulls her against him. He's hairy, but all his hair is on his arms and face, not a strand of it on top of his head. "Leave them alone. They're obviously together."

The woman, Mae, nudges him back. "No, they ain't. Shut it."

"They are. It's obvious. Look at ‘em."

"Ever since you found out about my brother, you think every pair a' guys in town are a couple. This is Cole, one of the bachelors. You saw the article, too. That means he's single."

"No, it don't."

Mae shoots him a look. "How ‘bout you just shut it and let me work my magic, babe?" A thought strikes her then. She turns her widened eyes to me and Cole. "You guys aren't an item, right …?"

I feel Cole's body tighten up by my side. I watch the emotion swirl across his face like an unforecasted windstorm.

He's wanting to honor my wishes.

But he's also not wanting me to feel hurt by denying it.

It's on me once again to be the voice. Considering everything Cole's done this evening to put me at ease, it's the least I can do to return the favor somehow.

I throw a hand onto Cole's shoulder in an uncharacteristically buddy-like fashion and give him a firm, manly patting. "We're … just, uh, pals," I tell them in a voice that's totally not mine. "I'm whipping his butt at pool. Yep. Whipping it real good."

Cole throws me a stunned look over his shoulder.

I smirk, proud of myself.

Okay, I could've probably worked on my delivery a little better.

"Y'see?" Mae barks back at the man, who I presume to be her boyfriend or husband. He squints skeptically at us. "You're always seein' things when there ain't nothin' to see."

"Mm-hmm," he grunts, unconvinced.

"Well, I'll let you boys get back to your game," she says. "You are gonna love my brother, I'm tellin' ya. Hey, stop lookin' at me like that," she gripes to the man as they walk away together.

Cole and I say nothing for a while, just staring at their backs as they stroll off. Then Cole turns to me and chuckles, belatedly amused by all of it. He seems happy to be alone with me again.

But all I can think about now is some hunky younger brother on a farm somewhere, whose eyes are set on Cole. A hunk who has a wallet full of love dollars, ready to pour it all out to win Cole all to himself.

Mae's hunky younger brother, my sudden nemesis.

A nemesis without a name.

And whatever peace we had here at the pool table has now been invaded by unwanted thoughts, fears, and insecurities. All I can see now is a bar full of people who are only partially minding their own business. Several eyes keep flicking our way. Eyes with questions and curiosities. Eyes that probably skimmed the words I wrote and drooled over the photos I took of this beautiful, perfect man standing next to me.

Photos that apparently suck.

"They don't suck," Cole says later on when we've had enough gaming (or rather: when he's finally tired of losing). We meander down the streets, languidly making our way back to the movie theater parking lot where he left his car. "I was so impressed with how you captured me in those photos. All three of us. Hell, you even managed to somehow make Anthony look halfway hot."

"He's got a nice face," I point out.

"When he isn't talking," Cole finishes for me, and I chuckle. He goes to put his arm around me, a totally natural instinct I might even have not fought off, then thinks the better of it and thrusts his hands into his pockets instead. "Honestly, I would've just told those people at the bar the truth, if it weren't for—"

"We can't," I remind him.

"That guy's gonna go to sleep tonight convinced he's wrong when he actually hit the nail straight on the boyfriend-head."

His word choice stuns me. I bite my lip in thought, not daring to ask. After a few more paces, I crack: "Is … Is that what we are?"

He glances at me. "What?"

"Boyfriends …?"

"Oh." He peers down at the ground as we walk. "Are we?"

"I'm not sure. It feels soon."

"Of course. It's very soon. I didn't mean to, uh …"

"No, it's okay," I assure him. "You said nothing wrong."

"In my head, this passionate chemistry between us … it's been going on far longer than just a few days."

"Passionate chemistry …" I echo mockingly, amused.

"What? It feels pretty dang passionate to me."

"I have nothing to compare this to. I don't know if it's fast or slow or anything at all." I shrug. "Guess it's just our speed."

He smiles appreciatively at me, coming to a stop. "Our speed."

I gaze back at him, full of thoughts.

Boyfriends … Is that what we are already? Does it happen that soon? Is there a time that's right and a time that's wrong? Should we hold a meeting and discuss it?

It's at the three-way intersection where Main Street ends at the front of Spruce Cinema 5 where we have come to a stop. The building still appears dark and without power, which is surprising, unless the general manager decided the electricity issue was a lost cause and closed down. The parking lot is dark, too, with just a pair of vehicles occupying it, one of which is Cole's.

"Don't worry," he says quietly. "I'm right by you."

I give him a look. "I'm not a baby who needs his hand held in the dark. I just get a little anxious is all." I straighten my back as if to show how big and unafraid I am. "It's a normal human reaction. A survival instinct. Our ancestors probably depended on it every night of their lives when the world turned unexplainably dark and creatures came out of the woods to hunt them in their camps."

"You've given this a lot of thought," notes Cole with a smile. "I didn't mean to make fun. You know I've got … my own thing."

He can't even say the word. He doesn't need to. I face him and nod understandingly.

He shuffles his feet and keeps his smile on. "You're probably super sad we didn't get to see how the movie ends. I bet it's been eating at you all night and you've not said anything."

"Why do you say that?"

"Just a hunch. So far, none of my hunches have been wrong about you." He smiles dreamily, then turns to me. "Do you think they fall in love? The hard-headed paladin and the cute sorcerer dude? Do you think they end up together, despite it all?"

I wonder if Cole's asking something else. If his real question is about us. "I … I hope so."

"Me, too."

Suddenly I feel like he's the paladin who secretly loves me, holding a sword to my throat, demanding me to let him set our secret free. I'm the cunning sorcerer with a puzzling past who can never fathom life in the spotlight, forever bound to the shadows.

He's using his power to stare into my eyes, searching for the truth, determined to find it.

The tension between us is nearing a mathematical limit.

Our pressure variable is in danger of integer overflow.

A kiss is imminent—a kiss to answer the passionate tension that has swelled between us since our own movie began.

The second I lean in, recklessly choosing to put my lips on his, he cuts our power supply with three tiny words: "I told Malcolm."

I freeze. It takes a second for his statement to land.

He winces. "I'm sorry, Noah. It's been on my mind all night. I told him this morning at the McPhersons'. We were opening up to each other about the event, stressing over this and that, and it … suddenly felt right to just … confide in someone about us." He sighs and looks away. "But it was wrong of me. I broke my promise to you. I feel shitty about it. I'm … I'm so sorry, Noah."

I let it marinate in my thoughts for a moment, connecting and disconnecting from several conclusions, much like a CPU working out a troubling situation with RAM and an overwhelming request from a demanding piece of resource-hogging software.

Then quite suddenly the result arrives: "That's okay."

My tone of voice must throw Cole for a loop. "It … It is?"

"Malcolm is working with Mrs. Strong to ensure the event is a success. He has something at stake, too. Also, you already share a brief history of trust with each other after what happened this past Christmas. So, all factors considered, I believe he's an ideal person for you to confide in. He's the least likely to be reckless with our secret."

After my speech, I can't tell if it's shock or amazement that floods Cole's face. "Noah …"

"I appreciate that you told me so soon. And thank you for the apology for breaking our promise, but …" I frown. "Maybe it was unreasonable of me to demand such secrecy. Unfair, even. This isn't an ideal set of circumstances upon which to begin and build a relationship. It's much like the demon sorcerer and the curse that his parents invited onto their family by crossing a demon. He can't help his situation. But he made do when he met the paladin, even despite the paladin's rigid beliefs in what's right and wrong. They are both a little right. They are both a little wrong. But they make do, and they can't ignore how they feel about each other."

Cole is surprisingly with me. "That's so true. They are us."

"With the exception that I don't know dark magic and don't have the voice of an enslaved demon familiar in my brain." I gaze into Cole's eyes. "But I know I have my paladin. My goodhearted guy who will protect me … if all of this starts to get out of hand."

Cole wraps me into his arms so suddenly, I make an uncomely squeak of surprise before settling against his firm, strong body. I try to glance one way or another, in search of anyone who might still be on the street and pay witness to this intimate moment, but no matter which way I turn, all I see is Cole's chest.

Then I realize maybe that's the point. It doesn't matter who's looking. It's no one's business what's happening between us, even if I only partially understand it myself. Considering my clear lack of experience in romance, it's no wonder I'm taking Cole's lead in careening headfirst into whatever this is between us.

Whatever this is, it feels good. It feels right.

It feels a little scary, too.

But perhaps that's just the variable of chaos I can't hope to control in any formulaic makeup of our relationship.

"Maybe I'm the sorcerer dude," murmurs Cole against my ear, sending shivers of delight up my neck and tingles over my scalp. "I think sometimes it's my family who invited a curse on me. A curse I have to fight against and hope I don't someday succumb to." He squeezes me even tighter. His voice softens. "I'm not the perfect guy everyone thinks I am. Every day feels like a fight to do what's right, except everything I do feels wrong. Maybe I'm fighting some kind of curse, too." He lets out a gentle sigh, then places a sweet, sensitive kiss on the side of my head. "I sure hope the two of them end up together in the end."

My fingers curl into the back of his shirt. "Cole?"

"Yes, Noah?"

"I want … I want to help you fight that curse. Whatever it is."

"Hmm. You sure about that?"

"Yes."

"Totally sure?"

"I said yes, didn't I?"

"You don't even know what the curse is."

I hear the humor in his voice. He's teasing me. "I have demon magic at my disposal to protect you. Or a paladin's sword, I think. I forget who's who here. Our metaphor is growing muddled."

He pulls back from me to get a look at my face. I watch a smile slowly spread from cheek to cheek. "Despite all the obstacles we faced tonight, you make me feel like I'm not cursed at all."

"Cole … tonight was one of the best nights I've ever had."

That surprises him. "Is the bar really set that low?"

"I'm serious." I grip him tighter. "I had so much fun with you. Facing obstacles with you was thrilling. I felt safe, happy, and …" My eyes meet his. Am I really saying this? Is this really me? "And I want to keep seeing you. I want to keep … facing things with you."

He brushes strands of hair off my forehead. "Well, I sure hope you're feeling brave, because tonight's just the first of many we'll be facing together."