15. Salsa

Song: Manu Chao - La Vida Tombola


ELLA’S POV


“Thanks for bringing me out tonight,” I said, grabbing my vodka lemon and lime from the table. My one drink for the next few days. It did suck not being able to drink very much but I’d got finals and I needed to do as much work for them as possible, so being off the booze could only lead to no hangovers which meant positive results, right?

“No worries, I haven’t seen you for ages,” he said, taking my hands and leading me back to the dance floor. He led me, pushing and directing me, his hands entwined with mine as we carried on catching up about our last week or two. I needed a distraction from course work and this was a great way to forget about it. The overly bronzed instructor clad in his tight black shirt was barking out orders but no one was paying him attention since the class was over.

“Shall we get coffee?” I asked. Coffee meaning coffee, and not sex. I’m not the type of person to say coffee but mean sex. I don’t do double entendres.

“Sure, twenty four hour Starbucks? Or Caribou?” he offered.

“Starbucks, carrot cake,” I flashed a grin back at him.



Once we were seated in the warmth, Noah turned to me and told me what he’d been holding back earlier.
“I saw the newspaper article,” he said quietly, trying to read my expression.

I raised my eyebrows. Him and the rest of Pittsburgh.

“I’m sorry, I had no idea. How’s Jordan?”

“Good, um, I think? Thankfully they managed to stop the photographs being leaked. Just a shame they couldn’t keep my name out. I’m sure my tutors think I’m a puck bunny now.” I’d received a bit of attention from other students in my classes after the article had made the papers. Fortunately there wasn’t too much detail, and there wasn’t a lot of information on me, more about Jordan, the Penguins and Diesel and a comment about how he’d like to raise public awareness for epilepsy. He, had managed to come out of it looking like the knight in platinum armour.

“And Jordan? What’s happening there?” Noah pressed. Why was Noah suddenly so interested? He’d seen me wrapped around Jordan that night. Admittedly, I hadn’t seen Noah since Diesel, but we’d been busy since and he’d had a good night.

“I don’t know,” I began. There was more to come, and Noah knew it, looking at me. “He sees you as some kind of threat…”

Noah snorted. That wasn’t the kind of reaction I’d been hoping for - especially when coffee squirted out of his nostrils. Niiice.

“Honey, I’m gay. Is he blind?” Noah said. I’ve always had an inkling that Noah was that way inclined. He’d never shown any interest in me, but that didn’t mean anything. He wasn’t overtly camp, and he was on the football team, so I’m guessing it was something he didn’t shout from the rooftops.

“What’s stopping you?” Noah pushed. He was relentless and I knew I wouldn’t be able to get home until I told him. Where to begin…

“I like him BUT,” I began before reeling off the list I have gone through so many times in my head, “I have so much work to do for finals, I came out of a relationship not too long ago, and I’m enjoying being single, he has a busy hockey schedule, we met on holiday and he lied to me, not telling me he played here so it was a complete surprise when I bumped into him and I was a little bit cross, we said we were friends to the press after the incident until getting it on in his car and I’m graduating in two months, but I’m not sure if I’ll stay in Pittsburgh or go back to Montreal and urghhhhhh.” The last bit was my sheer frustration at the situation. I’d been thinking it over ever since that evening in his car.

I had wanted to go further with him. Hell, I’d have gone the whole damn way with that boy, but what would that mean about our friendship? Had I blown it by pushing the boundaries and then doing a 180? I hadn’t called him, just a couple of ‘Good luck’ texts on game days.

“Life’s too short for excuses,” Noah said. “If I lived by that, I’d be permanently single. He’s a Penguin, he can get any girl in this city, yet alone North America, and he’s interested in you. Don’t waste it. And if you don’t want him, hand him over,” Noah said, pinching a piece of my carrot cake. Not even Gina dared to do that, as I batted his hand away. The last person to do that, Jake, had incurred my wrath for about two days.

“So, text him now, or I’ll text him for you.” I rolled my eyes, trying to imagine the gushing fan text Noah would send him.

I pulled my blackberry out of my coat pocket and began typing a message. I deleted the first few words and then started again. And then again. I’d left things awkwardly between us since I hadn’t responded to his two calls or texts. What was I going to say? Noah reached across the table from and plucked my phone cleanly out of my hands. He quickly typed something with a grin on his face and handed it back before I could even think about protesting or getting it back – wrestling a 6’2 football player was not my idea of fun right now.

Bastard had deleted the sent message too. This could be interesting.

“Let me just say, if he doesn’t reply in the next five minutes, forget him,” Noah continued. Really? Now I was curious. I set my phone down on the table, not believing him. Almost instantaneously I got a reply:

“As soon as I get back from my road trip. Hold that thought XX” the message read.

Jordan.

A little smile flitted across my face. I owed Noah, BIG time.

“What did you tell him?” I asked, wondering what he’d concocted in his text to Jordan to get a reply that quick. Whatever Noah had written was good. And what was this thought he wanted me to hold?

“Just that you had your fingers in your pants and you couldn’t wait to see him again,” Noah said innocently.

My jaw dropped. I would never send that to a guy. Not in a million years. Maybe if I was drunk and horny. I’m not forward, well, not as forward as that, but I’m hardly shy and reserved either.

“As if he needs further confirmation I’m a slut!” The first time I’d met him I’d just had a one night stand with Ethan. Then I’d pulled his shorts down in the pool, flirted with him all night and then left without saying goodbye or leaving a phone number. The next time I saw him, I was with Noah. I knew what I must look like to him – another guy, when the truth is that Noah and I are friends. Then we’d left Diesel only to have the incident, and then the next time we’re alone together, we’re practically getting it on it his car. I’ve sent a ton of mixed signals, poor Jordan.

“Oh c’mon, you act like you’re the virgin queen of Economics, untouchable to the guys on the course. That Zach has wanted you since freshman year, I know because he told me. And just so you know, I don’t believe your holier than thou bull,” Noah said, trying to go for another bit of my carrot cake.

I didn't know whether to be offended by that or not. Virgin Queen I was not. Though I'd been surprised about the Zach news - I'd missed out on that, he was seriously cute.

“You do that and our friendship is over,” I threatened, pulling my plate away. Carrot cake is sacred. He’d better learn some respect, Aretha style. Noah pouted. He could give Paris Hilton a run for his money with a pout like that.

“I just want to know what he said,” Noah replied, putting on his best angelic face, clasping his hands together as if he was in prayer.

“Tabarnac,” I said, shooting him a filthy look, he’s clearly no quitter. Noah looked confused about the word that had just trotted out of my mouth. Of course he wouldn’t know about mots sacrés, he’s not a Quebecoise like me. I shook my head and gestured for him to get off his knees, once my blackberry was safely zipped inside my purse.

It was already half eleven, and my bed was calling my name along with the work I was now behind on. Jordan would be home in two days – things were going to get interesting.