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“Are you hitting on me?” he asks.

I snort at his bluntness. “I don’t know yet. Am I?”

“I don’t know either,” he says.

For a moment, we just look at each other. I can’t deny an initial attraction to this guy, but at the same time, I am not sure if he is the challenge I want. Is it true that I am always choosing the easy way? Was Lynn right with what she said?

“Maybe you are just obsessed with Ster’s paintings of me,” he adds.

“Maybe,” I admit.

Noel looks surprised. “You are honest,” he mutters.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, in fact, I prefer it that way.” A pause. “And now?”

For a moment, I consider my options. I have no idea what the fuck I want, and what I am even doing here with Noel, but somehow Lynn’s words still echo in me. She is right. What I have been doing the last couple of years has been utterly sad and bordering on pathetic.

“Here,” I say, taking a business card out of my pocket. On the back, I scribble down my private number. “If you ever feel like going for coffee or a drink—a type of drink you like—text me.”

“You are leaving it up to me?” Noel asks. “The ball is in my court, huh?”

“Maybe it is,” I admit. “But I gave you my private number, didn’t I? I barely hand it out.”

“Not even to hook-ups?” he asks.

“No, not to anyone. Barely anyone has my private number. I mostly use my work phone. Feels less personal.”

Noel looks at me in awe. “Then it’s special,” he says, neatly placing the card I just handed him in his wallet. Then the sass is back in his eyes. “Don’t believe I won’t contact you!”

I chuckle. “I am curious to see if you will.”

six

*NOEL*

For all my bravado the other night, contacting Aden is much more difficult than I thought it would be. The card with his private number on, is safely secured in my wallet. It feels so heavy. Every time I take my wallet out, I feel like it burns my hands.

In my job, I usually know when a guy flirts with me, and I get hit on a lot. Had Aden hit on me, it would have turned me off immediately, but he just talked with me, and while he seemed interested, he didn’t look like he was about to jump into anything either. He didn’t look too certain that he wanted methatway.

“You look like you are trying to solve a really difficult math problem,” Emma says while pouring herself some coffee.

She is one of my roommates. I live with three guys and two girls in a quite cramped apartment. I can’t afford more with my dad’s debt dangling over my head, but at least they are nice people. Mateo and Ster hate that I am living here. They think the area is unsafe, and they keep begging me to move in with one of them temporarily, but I can’t rely on them all the time. I can’t take advantage of their kindness, and frankly, Ster has been supporting his sister for so many years, so it’s not like he isn’t swimming in money. And Mateo is still paying off his student debt.

“It’s nothing,” I mutter.

“Sure,” Emma laughs. “Tell me.”

“Man, Emma, don’t you have your own problems?”

“Nope,” she says.

“Don’t you need to study?” She is currently in college, and most of the time, either studying or working to support herself.

“I had my exam yesterday,” she says.

“And how did it go?”