Natalie
I didn't settle for Italian food. It felt cliché, so I pulled Noah to a Vietnamese restaurant. I'm happy with my choice.
It might go against my morals to let Noah pay for everything, but Dear Lord, I'm in heaven.
Noah ordered us a buffet of food, and we are now surrounded by various dishes that all taste amazing. Every bite is an orgasm of flavor inside of my mouth. I haven't stopped moaning.
"Oh-my-god!" I'm eating something called Gỏi cuốn, and it's love at first bite. I talk with food in my mouth, not caring that I have rice on my chin. "This is so good..."
Noah told me that the Vietnamese have this thing where they value balance in their tastes. Everything should add something different to the table, and boy, I will follow that like a new religion.
"I'm glad you're happy."
I watch Noah as he eats with his chopsticks. His face remains calm, focused as he picks food, and every movement is fluid. It looks like he is drawing or creating art while bringing the food to his mouth.
Strangely enough, I find Noah charming and distinguished while he is eating. I can tell he was raised in a household that valued manners.
"Tell me more about yourself." I bring meat to my mouth; I believe Noah called this dish Phở.
His eyes meet mine. "What would you like to know?"
"Oh, I don't know... You're a jock, but you're much more observant than your appearance gives you credit for."
Noah chuckles. "You read a lot of books."
My eyes narrow. "I do."
"Then how come you haven't learned to not judge a book by its cover?"
I laugh. "Good one."
Noah looks pleased. "Just because I take care of myself and love football doesn't mean that I'm naïve. I'm observant, and while I might not have grades as high as yours, Mrs. top-of-her class, I excel in entrepreneurship and economy."
"I wouldn't expect less of a future CEO."
"Yeah," Noah smiles. "My father was strict when he was alive. I was raised on the belief a man's career and family are the most important."
"Do you live by those words?"
"No," his blue eyes meet mine, suck me right in. "I think love runs deeper than blood. Am I silly for thinking that?"
I absorb him, his ridiculously handsome face, and decide that Noah is beautiful on the inside too. Which is scary. Now I'm sitting here trying to think of what could possibly be wrong with him to like me.
Insanity?
Potential serial killer?
"You're not silly," I say, allowing myself to laugh. "You're a hopeless romantic, and I admire that."
"Oh, did I actually receive a compliment from Natalie Gracen, or did I imagine that part? I might need to get my ears cleaned."
I throw food his way, and Noah laughs. The piece of meat splashes his t-shirt, yet Noah doesn't get mad. He simply laughs at me and picks up food of his own.
"Now you've done it, Mrs. Gracen—any last words?"
My lips move, but Noah throws food into my face before I've even spoken a damn sentence.
"Oh-my-god, this was my favorite pajamas!"
Noah snorts. "More like your only pajamas! Do you even have anything else to wear? I bet you answer the door wearing that."
I laugh out loud. "Fuck you!"
The other guests are staring at us. We are sitting at some high-class table and laughing like drunken foxes—Noah is supposed to be upper class, yet we act like children.
"I'm sorry..." Noah dries a tear with his finger. His lips are still quivering from our earlier food war. "We need to get you some new clothes after this. I will take you anywhere you want."
"No-no-no, I'm not letting you buy me rich-people clothes!"
"You don't have a choice, sweetheart," Noah shows me his pearly teeth in a broad smile. "I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you into the nearest Gucci store, princess. And we both know that you weight nothing—you wouldn't stand a chance."
I look him up and down. "I bet I could still outrun you..."
He laughs in amusement. "I'm a football player; do you really want to go down that route? Because I will chase you. I might be bigger than you, but I'm super fast."
I gasp. "You wouldn't chase me!"
"Try me."
Noah winks at me, and I blush. My heart picks up speed again, and I want to throw my arms around him. I got it good for Noah; the man has me wrapped around his finger.
"Natalie?"
I snap my eyes to the ceiling, blinking once I catch my dad slipping off his jacket on a nearby chair. Cynthia is with him, staring at us while trying to figure out what we are doing here together.
My mind farts. I don't know what lie to tell to get out of this situation. Luckily, Noah opens his mouth.
"Looks like I'm not the only sucker for Vietnamese food," Noah says with a charming accent that makes him sound more well-mannered than usual. He even smiles. "I love this place and thought it was the best way to bond with my soon-to-be stepsister."
"Aw, that's so nice of you, Noah!" Cynthia exclaims. It's evident that Noah is still her little boy in her eyes. But once she faces me, her eyes widen in disgust at my pajamas. "Interesting choice of clothes..."
Noah chuckles. "I'm taking Natalie shopping after this."
Cynthia lifts an eyebrow while my dad shrugs. He doesn't seem to mind me being given clothes for free, but Cynthia looks between us with irritation flaring in her eyes.
"Isn't it a bit odd to go shopping with your sister?"
"Stepsister," Noah corrects her. "And I like Natalie's company, so this might happen again even if you disapprove. Natalie is a funny girl, and it's not illegal for us to hang out."
I'm taken aback by Noah looking out for me. Even his mother appears shocked. But I'm even more impressed when Noah stands up from our table, and as he waits for me to follow him, he turns to his mother with a calm expression.
"Should I pay for your food?" Noah asks.
I stifle a chuckle when Cynthia glares at him. She appears murderous, clearly not liking it when her son offers to pay for the food. My dad doesn't care, though. He smiles from his seat.
"That would be wonderful," he says. "Thank you, Noah."
"Anytime."
Noah hands me a brief smile to let me know everything is okay, and then I follow him to the counter. He is friendly all the way to the car. But once we are seated, he exhales.
"I'm sorry. My mother had no right to act that way," Noah says. "Wearing pajamas inside a restaurant isn't classy. It's not forbidden, though, but looking you up and down and talking to you in that tone? Not okay."
I place my hand over his. "Noah..."
His eyes find mine, and I lean in, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. It seems to shock him. He reels back with a confused smile, and I beam at him from the bottom of my heart.
"I didn't take the way your mother behaved to heart, but thank you for standing up for me."
Noah's smile is slow but sexy. "Anytime."