those who can't do

Noah Kamacken, 29. Cloverbrook by way of Portland, Seattle, and Rhode Island. Divides his time between studying art and picking what to hang on the walls. (Home is a perjury, a parlor trick, an urban myth.)

[noahkamacken-blog]

roryspelling:

Terribly handsome, maybe, Rory thought. They slowed to a brisk walk and Rory struggled to catch her breath, staring at Noah’s profile out of the corner of her eye. She matched his pace, smiled to herself when their shoulders were still brushing together – creating a friction. Winslow was padding along beside them now, sniffing at the pavement and wagging his tail. Rory let go of their intwined hands, but still kept her fingers close to his. Knuckles on knuckles. It felt so intimate and strange at the same time – but Rory didn’t want to let go of the embrace entirely. 

She turned to him then, raising her eyebrows while a giggle escaped her lips. “Cloverbrook is home,” Rory said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. She talked about it, thought about it, a lot. Noah didn’t know about any of it – and without even meaning to, she suddenly told him it all, well, the main points, anyway. “All I wanted to do when I was younger was travel, and then when I got the chance, I did it. I went to New York and Vegas and sure, those places were amazing in their own right and all, but… nothing compares to Cloverbrook. Nowhere else gives me that feeling of home, you know?” She looked at him with wide eyes, willing him to understand what she was saying. “I mean, people say that ‘home is where the heart is’, right? For me… home is here. My heart is here. I don’t think I’d ever be able to leave Cloverbrook for good.” 

Rory shook her hair in front of her face, guarding herself. She felt embarrassed over her tangent – sure, Noah was asking her questions to get to know her and all, but when she was nervous (or drunk) she talked. A lot. It was annoying and it was embarrassing and she felt like an idiot. She directed her attention to Winslow, bending down to stroke his fur and give him a little kiss on the top of his head. “If… if I could move anywhere, I’d move to Greece, I think.” She decided not to tell him why, decided she didn’t want to talk about herself anymore. “What about you, Noah? Why Cloverbrook? Why not stay in New England?” I’m happy you didn’t, she said silently.

They arrived outside of the Cookie Jar bakery, slowing to a stop outside the front door. The bakery would only be open for another hour or two, but it was the only place Rory could think of that had some sort of outdoor set-up. Sure, it was out the front and it was those uncomfortable iron chairs and tables that wobbled a bit if you put too much pressure on them, but, it’d have to do. Winslow jumped up on one of the chairs, wagging his tail like crazy. Rory giggled, shaking her head. “C’mon, bud, don’t sit there.” She lightly chastised. Surprisingly, Winslow hopped off the chair, settling down on the pavement. “I mean, it’s no restaurant patio but…” She shrugged, turning to wrap her fingers around his wrist and pull him inside to order. “C’mon, Noah!”

She made it sound so obvious. Here is the town. Here is the house where I grew up. Here is the shorefront, and here are my brothers, and this is my heart, and it’s here. Noah cocked his head to listen, Rory standing still and wide-eyed. She’d been to New York and Vegas – she’d been places, but she always came back. Was that what she was saying? This is my heart, and it’s here.

He didn’t get that. I mean, he got that she meant it, but he – I mean, she bent to shake her hair in front of her face like this was too much to tell, and he felt the tug in his chest like there was a thread between them. “I don’t…” Noah tongued his lip, then tucked it into his mouth. “I don’t know anyone like that,”  he said. “If home is where the heart is, then isn’t it just–“ He didn’t go for her chest (that had too many implications, if he slipped or touched wrong), but opted to tap his own. Holy shit. Was that really his pulse right now? "Don’t you just carry it around?” And maybe that was pseudo-philosophical nonsense; it sure felt that way, his eyes rolling behind a blink (seriously?) and his shoulder in a half-shrug. 

“I just mean… I did Rhode Island. I know it now. Guess I just got to feeling like it was time to know something else.” Granted, something else had turned into a few different somethings, all of them shut tight behind him like doors with changed locks, but… Noah flashed a quick smile to show that this was okay, this was not a sad thing. He was not a sad person. “And the West Coast – Jesus. If I never left home I might’ve gone my whole life without seeing a palm tree. Could you imagine?“ He gestured across the street, to where a row of them lined up near the boardwalk. “Tragic.” 

He was going to elaborate. He actually opened his mouth to start (why Greece? he’d been to London with his family once but they’d only stayed a couple of days – god, he’d spent it all in Camden wishing the punk would rub off on him), but then she was tugging on his wrist again, pulling him into the bakery where everything smelled like warm bread and sugar frosting. “This is definitely better than dinner,” he said, curling his fingers over the display case. There was a sign behind the counter: DO NOT TOUCH THE GLASS. He pulled his hands away and shoved them quickly in his pockets. “Sorry.” Whoops. Noah made a show of looking without touching, rocking on his shoes, trying to figure out what he wanted. 

When he’d settled and ordered, and she'd settled and ordered, and they'd both gotten their food on little ceramic plates with a napkin apiece, he tugged his wallet out and unfolded a few bills. “Buy me a drink sometime, and we’re even.” Smooth, Noah. At least he had an apple turnover now. 

[leahlistens]

“I’m pretty sure sleep-deprivation is covered really early in our first semester, actually but, uh, they never really tell you how much is too much, you know? Is it 12 hours? 24? 48? Hold on - three days straight? Oh my God, I would be a total zombie. I mean, ouch, that’s dedication. But you still lived to tell the tale and ‘nearly’ failing means you passed. Which is, over all, the goal.”

[noahkamacken-blog]

“No, trust me, it’s the opposite of dedication. Dedicated people actually make schedules and calendars and stuff, meet with professors during office hours. I just played a lot of Mario Kart.” And now he was one of the guys who helped the professors. Everything comes full circle, somehow. Noah still wasn’t so clear on that. “At least grad school’s been surprisingly light on the work load. Or maybe I’m just finally older and wiser.” 

[benxscott-deactivated20170829]

“Where does someone with no money go to get some decent food around here? Help me out.”

[noahkamacken-blog]

“There’s a homeless shelter on the shore that does some good work. And folks at the farmers’ market can get pretty generous -- at least, they’ll toss extra fruits in your bag.” But that would mean actually buying a bag. Hm. Noah shifted his weight on the sidewalk, his wallet light in his pocket. Maybe not too light? “I’m actually headed for pizza, if you, uh... I mean, I could split you a slice.” 

[leahlistens]

“So I definitely did the right thing in just buying the four pack. It’s good to know that I won’t be killed myself any time soon. It would be weirdly ironic if it was nursing that made me ill. But wait, is five your limit, or everyone’s?”

[noahkamacken-blog]

“Nursing? I’m sure caffeine and sleep-deprivation are covered in your lessons -- which you’re supplementing with caffeine and sleep-deprivation. Okay. I see the irony.” Noah frowned, considering it. What was the worst he’d ever done? “I’m probably around.. three? That’s three all-nighters, though, straight-through; stayed up in undergrad to cram some term papers and wound up nearly failing ‘em all anyway.” 

[leahlistens]

“So, since my textbooks don’t hold the answer, I’m going to ask you - how many Red Bull fueled study sessions can you take part in before your heart explodes?”

[noahkamacken-blog]

“Before it explodes? Five. Definitely five. ...Well, almost-definitely five. You’ve gotta think about how many you’re having per day, and how quickly, and something about a resting pulse. Didn’t pay too much attention on my last checkup, but I’m pretty sure it’s fiveish.”

[quotes-shape-us]

Maybe the first time you saw her you were ten. She was standing in the sun scratching her legs. Or tracing letters in the dirt with a stick. Her hair was being pulled. Or she was pulling someone’s hair. And a part of you was drawn to her, and a part of you resisted—wanting to ride off on your bicycle, kick a stone, remain uncomplicated. In the same breath you felt the strength of a man, and a self-pity that made you feel small and hurt. Part of you thought: Please don’t look at me. If you don’t, I can still turn away. And part of you thought: Look at me.

Nicole Krauss, The History of Love (via quotes-shape-us)

[drew-moriarty]

“I hate when people ask me what I’m doing later. I can’t even plan my next five minutes, so I suggest you stop asking.”

[noahkamacken-blog]

Maybe they’re just trying to ask for a favor. That’s not so bad, right? I’m not Plan Ahead guy, either, but sometimes you’ve got to make a vague outline, so everyone else can work around you.

[indyerstraits]

“That’s fantastic!” She rejoiced, hopping up and clasping her hands together in delight as if she’d been concerned that Noah might’ve said no to catsitting her little rascal. “Thank you so much. I’ll absolutely bring you  real food next time. Do you mind if I go and get him? He’s in my car, actually. I’ve been trying to find a place for him since… you’re right about the weekends. We don’t really get them off too much.” Nadia hadn’t waited for him to respond before dashing away, feet scampering a million steps a second as she went to fetch her cat at a breakneck speed. 

Harvey was a pump, rag doll cat which meant he was even plumper when you carried him. Nadia carted a mass of fur in her arms back to Noah’s doorstep, barely peeking over it as she fumbled with his weight. “He’s honestly a very good cat. You shouldn’t have any problems with him at all,” she said, sputtering fur. “I’m so grateful for this, you wouldn’t believe. I’ve needed this time off yesterday.”

[noahkamacken-blog]

“Wait. This isn’t real food?” He tried to frown, but it didn’t hold up well when he looked at all the marshmallows and cherries in the bowl. She was already out the door; Noah bent to make room in his fridge, sighing at the sound of his own cat hopping up on the kitchen counter. “You can’t have any,” he scolded. How old was this orange juice? Way, way too old. “You’ll get -- diabetes, or something.” 

Moxie didn’t heed his words so much. She was batting at the saran-wrap when Nadia came back, heavy fur-ball in her arms. “No, this’ll be great! Really. I don’t think Moxie’s met another cat in her life.” He punctuated the statement with a glare at the tabby, who promptly skittered off to the couch. “If I had a job like yours, I’d need a break once a month -- so you take all the time you need. I’ll try to keep Harvey from missing you too much.” 

[edenlockhart]

Eden was very good at convincing people, but for some reason she was having problems trying to convince the bartender into giving her another drink. Maybe the alcohol had affected her skills or maybe he was right. She just wanted to make this goddamn day go faster and the man behind the bar wasn’t making it easier.

The familiar voice calling her name made her feel less drunk. Great just what I needed, she thought as she looked to the other side, hiding her face with her hand as she rolled her eyes. Taking a deep breath she finally turned around with a smile to face Noah. “I-I think you’re mistaking me with someone else.” Not the best words to come out from her mouth, but maybe he would get the hint.

[noahkamacken-blog]

Woah, okay. Noah’s head moved back in surprise, eyebrows knit together, mouth open and waiting for words. “Seriously?” The silent treatment was his play: leave a note, quiet your phone, let your voicemail fill up. At least when he did it, he knew it wasn’t anyone else’s fault -- now, thumbing the rim of his half-done beer, he didn’t have that luxury. Maybe it wasn’t too late to skip town. 

“Okay,” he said, evenly. “Fine. Still don’t think it’s a great idea for anyone to get belligerent alone.” Never-mind that he’d come here by himself, too. He wasn’t at argue-with-the-bartender levels yet. “You have someone to take you home? Help you home. Whatever. You know what I mean.” 

[roryspelling]

Rory threw her head back, giggles finding their way past her lips. She wondered if he knew how funny he really was – or if he even really meant to be funny. Maybe it was just something about him, some little part of Noah, that she found contagious. There was some type of familiarity in the feeling of being with him. What was it? Was it comfort? She felt bright, felt like being twirled around the street and dancing. She didn’t know what it was, but she didn’t want the feeling to end. Oddly, she wasn’t even scared by this idea of his parents – it was as if she’d known them her whole life. Like her and Noah had been the best of friends ever since kindergarten. 

[noahkamacken-blog]

It was when they rounded a corner that his grip tightened, pulling her back. She stopped, bouncing on the balls of her feet, a breathy laugh escaping her lips. Her heart was racing, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the running or from the way their fingers were intertwined, fitting like two different pieces of a puzzle. Her chest was rising and falling, rising and falling, and her cheeks were flushed for a completely different reason now. “What do you mean we don’t know where we’re going, Noah?” Rory asked, voice slightly shaky.

They stood at the corner, hands slightly swinging at their sides, fingers still tangled together. It was quiet, really quiet. All Rory could hear was her heart beating out of her ears, feel the pulse in his hands. Her lips parted, watching him just standing there on the corner, so perfect, and just looking at her. She thought that maybe he’d kiss her, then, and she’d never felt so nervous before her in the life. Not even for her first kiss with Xavier. The moment passed, and the cute sound of his voice – that she would now forever hear in that adorable New England accent – broke her out of her daze. 

“Noah!” Rory broke out into a smile, playfully smacking his shoulder with her free hand. They were still holding hands, still standing at the corner. The wind messed up the back of his hair, but she thought it suited him – made him look even cuter. “You’re such a liar!” Another breathy laugh, another playful slap. She wanted so so badly to lean over and kiss the smile off his face, but she refrained, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. “A small lie still makes a dishonest dinner. But–” Rory glanced up at him through thick eyelashes, giving his hand a little squeeze, “I know a place. C’mon.” Another squeeze and they were back to jogging across the road, fingers tangled and hands swinging.

Okay. Okay, this–this was, what’s the word, palpable. She had long fingers, and they fit evenly between his knuckles, his thumb over her thumb, her teeth on her lip. It was the first time that want factored into it at all (no, that’s naive, there’d been want here the whole time), and he flexed his feet in his shoes so he didn’t step forward. He’d keep this light. He’d keep it wanting-but-not-quite, and maybe his skin wouldn’t feel so hot. 

This was better. This was banter. This was flirting, and somehow Noah was good at flirting, in his own right. He used her slaps as an excuse to pull back, hinging one shoulder out of her reach. “I warned you!” he said, “I told you! I’m terrible!” Winslow yelped his own judgments at Noah’s feet, perhaps spurred by his owner’s attacks. Between the two of them, the dog was probably the more dangerous – he smiled at the thought of Rory actually baring her teeth. 

Nope. Not the image he was going for.

So they were off, again. She kept pulsing her grip, like she wanted to make sure he was still there as they made their way down the sidewalk, corners and curbs and shops passing as they hastened their steps. Stopping back there had been an excuse to pull himself together; he didn’t really care where they went, or if they had a plan. He wasn’t even sure he was hungry, anymore -- the lowered sun meant it would be dark soon, but the sky was still lit up with blue, so they had time before the streetlights went on. Noah looked up at it without moving his head, silence settling back between them. 

Of course, even if he was comfortable in silence (pseudo-silence, anyway), Noah was more comfortable with something he could pay attention to. That curiosity had been at the base of all this -- he reached for it again, ‘cause it kept them talking and moving forward, forward. Cloverbrook was a small town. They’d be at a table in a bit, where he wouldn’t have the luxury of looking anywhere but straight at her. “What kept you here after high school?” He let his eyes follow the curve of a palm tree before turning back to her. If they timed their footsteps just right, their forearms could stay pressed together. “Are you glad you stayed? Here, lemme put it this way: next question. If you could’ve moved anywhere else, where would you have moved?” 

[hiddlesy]

[noahkamacken-blog]

“You’re terrified that, when people know the real you, they won’t like you.”

[edenlockhart]

What do you mean you can’t give me a drink anymore? I haaave money, so I want a bloody vodka. And shut up! I’m not eeven drunk yet.

[noahkamacken-blog]

No one warned Noah about small towns. Portland, Seattle, Providence -- hell, even San Francisco was a sprawling city, of sorts, where he could run off to spend extra time on a cable-car if he needed a little anonymity. 

No one warned him that beach-side suburbs didn’t offer the same thing.

"Woah, okay.” He’d spent the last couple months avoiding Eden, and here was her voice from down the bar. Noah looked a few people down to see her slurring, swaying in that too-drunk way. He shook his head at the bartender, then slid out of his stool to stand next to her. “Hey, Eden? Maybe not a great idea.” 

[indyerstraits]

Nadia shrugged with a big grin on her face as he pointed out her mild underestimation. Honestly, it hardly looked like a large amount at the time while her mind was wrapped up about whether or not Butternut counted his calories or if he was lactose intolerant. “Great!” she exclaimed, pushing the bowl into Noah’s arms.

“Oh, you know you don’t have to pay me with anything… but if you insist, I’ll take a favor instead if you don’t mind. I have the weekend off– I know, crazy, right? And I was wondering if you could look after my cat Harvey for a bit.” Nadia held her hands up before he could get a word in edgewise. “He’s actually a very tame cat and extremely low-maintenance but I’m always worried I’ll step on him while I’m drunk so… If you could just feed him for a bit, I’ll absolutely come back for him on Monday.”

[noahkamacken-blog]

He cupped the bowl into his ribs with one arm, the plastic cool on his wrist. Ambrosia, whatever it was -- they’d talked about it in class, once, something mythological and important -- it really did look great. Everything Nadia made looked great. 

Noah frowned in fake dejection, but he couldn’t even stay fake-sad; just the suggestion of cat-sitting had him grinning again. “Harvey?” What was it he loved so much about animals with people names? “Yeah! No, I’m on board for sure -- I’ve got my own, somewhere around here. They can share litter boxes, fight over the warm pillow.” Nadia was one of those people who danced around the help she asked for with words like actually and low-maintenance. She still didn’t realize her friends would do just about anything for her. “Weekends off are rare for you, right? You should take it.” 

[quinnstein-rp-deactivated201601]

Elijah & Noah

[quinnstein-rp-deactivated201601]

How bout one that’s been loved a little, like a trade in? If that makes sense, i’ve never bought a car so I don’t really know what it’s like but it might be a good change to have a car that’s been lived in by you?

[noahkamacken-blog]

Hey, that’s an idea. New doesn’t have to be new new; I can still get something old without getting a clunker, spits out smoke four months in. It’s just -- I don’t know how people go about this without going to a dealership. Used car salesman. Kind of a beacon of sleaze, right?

[indyerstraits]

“Oh you,” Nadia hugged her bowl to her chest and swatted at his shoulder in a way that would’ve made all suburbanite wives proud as she tossed her head back and laughed. “You know I don’t mind bringing you food. I’ve got a pretty poor gauge of proportion anyway and I don’t think it’ll be getting better anytime soon. For all you know, this may be life long room service,” she said with another laugh that should’ve sounded less genuine than it did considering that her joke was less of a joke and more of an ironic glimpse into her nature. “Please, take some. It’s delicious. There are plenty of marshmallows in it.”

[noahkamacken-blog]

A pretty poor gauge of proportion. Noah thought about what five pounds of this must look like, lined up on a counter, and his eyebrows nearly touched his hairline. “People pay for room service,” he said. “You know that, right? This is life-long charity.” Not that he was complaining. You could never have too much of something with plenty of marshmallows. “Of course I’ll take some. But you’re not leaving empty-handed this time. Let’s see: I’ve got... a couple Diet Coke cans, a box of Cheerios, and half a jar of a la vodka sauce.” Yeah, he really needed to hit the supermarket.

[roryspelling]

They stopped at an intersection, and Rory no longer had the comfort of clicking heels or the feel of Winslow’s tail whipping lightly against her leg to rely on. Winslow sat near the curb, tongue lolling, watching the cars zoom past them. He didn’t dare to make a move – already, he was obedient. For that Rory was thankful. Now, though, Rory got to drink in every one of Noah’s features, brightened by the afternoon Cloverbrook sun. The back of his hair was sticking up, wisps blowing in the slight breeze. He had a little bit of stubble, she noticed, and it worked for him. Whenever he smiled, it was all toothy and smooth lips and excited eyes. All of the little details he gave about his mother gave her that feeling again: like she’d known him and his family for years and like she was apart of it all.

It seemed that when he got talking about things he loved, it was hard to get a word in. It wasn’t annoying, though – Rory had heard the same thing about herself a few times before, how it was annoying and how it was a turn off because she was constantly yapping on, but… It only added to who Noah was as a person. And Rory liked that person. “Hmm, a little bit of both,” Rory said, rolling back and fourth on her heels, wanting to keep moving forward and forward but not wanting any of it to end. “It’s mainly residential, but with the reconstruction of Crystal Falls I’ve been designing some of the stores inside the Mall or other little shops on the storefront. It’s… different, to say the least.” She smiled. Sure, the experience had been different and it had been a bit of an adjustment, but overall she was proud of the work she’d done so far. “You’ll have to come by one day and check it out,” Rory said, acting so casual that he must have seen through the façade, seen the slight shake in her hands and the hitch in her breath.

Definitely never invited to his place, huh? Rory acted offended, skirting around a smile, trying to act serious and if she were hurt. But, she wasn’t. It was hard to frown around him. It was hard to even really think around him, she started to realize. He had such a unique air about him and it was if she was trying to spend the rest of their walk together without cracking another silly comment or making a complete and utter fool out of herself. Stop trying so hard, she thought, act natural. Rory clicked her tongue. Trying not to make a fool out of herself didn’t last for very long – “Maybe I could come over and check the place out? Draw up some design ideas for you?” She stopped, watching the red light and willing it to change, willing for something else – like her feet on the pavement, one foot in front of the other – to take her attention away. “Or, who knows? Maybe I’ll love the inside of your apartment. Use it as a muse, copy the design. Hah. And, hey, I’m sure Moxie is going to love me.” She replied, as if it were a given that she would be meeting Moxie and seeing the inside of his apartment and that he’d even want to see her again. They were strangers, after all. Even though Noah felt like nothing of the sort.

The light changed, flashing green and making that annoyingly erratic beeping noise, and they began to stroll over the crosswalk. Noah knocked his shoulder with hers, his hand stroking over her knuckles for a moment. She wished his touch had lingered – loved the feeling of something so accidental but intimate and maybe not so friendly. Rory didn’t say anything, made it as if she hadn’t felt his hand on hers or that she wasn’t fazed at all by the gesture. He turned into a mess of mumbles and that constant colour in his cheeks was distracting, she noticed, hardly even hearing his excuses.

And then he spoke in that accent. Switched it on like pressing a button, and it all came out naturally and so something she would expect to come out of his mouth. Rory couldn’t contain her laughter, practically slapping her knees and keeling over as Noah leaned against a storefront, hand over his mouth, like he couldn’t believe he’d just done all of that in public. Winslow glanced up at the pair and barked along. “That was adorable!” It slipped out of her mouth. She was so distracted by trying to catch her breath and stopping her laughter to even notice the slip up, notice that she’d said something she probably shouldn’t have to a stranger. But. Noah wasn’t a stranger, was he? It definitely didn’t feel like it.

“Wow,” Rory ran a hand down the side of her face, giggles drying out into airy and heavy breaths. “First date and I’ve already met your father, huh?” Another slip up. Was it a date? They were two strangers getting lunch, did that constitute as such? Seriously, this is special. I never do this for nobody. Rory didn’t know what to say, still trying to catch her breath. In an attempt to salvage her dignity, and with a burst of courage, Rory grabbed onto Noah’s hand and started leading him down the street in a type of skip/jog, and Winslow followed eagerly at their heels, barking in agreement.

[noahkamacken-blog]

There was a full second or two where Noah just stood in wait, hand over his eyes, shoulders flat against the brick where it pressed warm through his shirt. This wasn’t all bad, he thought. Rory’d had that light in her eyes, at the crosswalk – maybe I’ll love the inside of your apartment like it was already settled – so he wasn’t embarrassed, not really, not in the way that mattered. There were worse things than a quick-spreading blush. It was just, you know, his chest felt heavier now. And he knew that would stick ‘til he got home tonight, where he could lie in his bed with all his white noise humming, and he could wonder how much more of the father he’d buried was still waiting to show up in him. It had been happening like this, lately: little flashes of recognition, like that week he hadn’t bothered to shave, or that night he bought the wrong cigarettes and found he liked them better. Parliaments. He'd smoked three back-to-back and then tossed the rest. That wasn't who he--

Wait. Did she just say adorable?

Noah snapped back into it, then. Didn’t take long. She was gasps and giggles, bent over her knees, and he was watching her hair shake with the rest of her, where it fell to cover her face. A guy can’t stay stuck in his head when there’s a girl who laughs like too many wind chimes -- and that was him who did that, he made that happen, oh, he smiled without showing any teeth. “Good,” he said. He didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but he figured she’d get it, anyway. She’d gone along with everything else so far. “I mean, yeah, my mom’s already got us a table. That’s cool, right? They go on all my dates.” 

He was trying to let her set the pace, he’d told himself, except when Rory actually grabbed his hand and took off, Noah was right there with her. No more blushing, this time; let’s call a spade a spade, okay? Let’s admit that her palm against his palm, no pretense, actually made him feel a little more at ease. And he nearly tripped on Winslow, but he could respect that the dog stayed so close to her heels. At the next corner, he tightened his grip to hold her back. “Hey, hey,” he laughed, mostly breath, “hang on.” Noah slid his fingers more comfortably in the spaces between hers. “We don’t even know where we’re going.” 

But they weren’t going anywhere, now, they were just standing again, and he couldn’t quit looking at her, like he -- Christ, he wasn’t gonna kiss her, was he? No. He was definitely not gonna kiss her. “And you’ll probably want to pick, ‘cause I... don’t actually know a place with a patio,” he admitted. “That was, uh, that was kind of a lie. A small one, though!” Noah held up his thumb and finger in a sign for tiny, his smile on the side of his mouth. 

[val-boyd]

Orion laughed, and it hurt his nose but he kept giggling, covering the nose and wincing. “A model!? No, of course not. God.” He flopped back in the sand, chest heaving from laughing breaths. “I’m a waiter at Skate & Shake- that rollerskating diner place.” He sat up on one elbow. “But I get a helluva lot of tips because of how cute I am.” He winked, then felt around for a napkin and started wiping blood from his face, trying to clean himself up with a sigh.

[noahkamacken-blog]

“Oh, god, you’re not a model.” He was a waiter on skates – he was a roller-skating waiter, and Noah had actually said the words you’re a model out loud and he’d been wrong, wow. Was it too late to bury his head in the sand? “Remind me to pay off my student loans on time,” he said. “If you’re what they make waiters out of these days, I'll have a hell of a time finding work.” 

Orion’s hand, the napkin, the sigh -- Noah sighed, too, and leaned over to look again. “Here, let me help.” No way the guy was going to get all of it by himself.  Not without a mirror. Still, he hesitated before taking over, blinking in wait for permission.