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Authors: Cynthia A. Rodriguez
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But I’m not really into wasting my time.” I unlocked my car, tossed my backpack in the backseat, and settled into the driver’s seat. I tried to sound nonchalant, but my heart was beating overtime and my hands gripped the steering wheel for dear life. I needed something to hold on to. I was so elated that I would probably float away if I didn’t.
Did it always feel like this? Was it always this clear when you met your match? I pondered the thought as I started the car. Yes, I had someone else on my side. Had he taken pity and brought her to me? Or had he simply given me the buzz that told me she was it? Most people looked for giant signs telling you when you found “the one” but it had only taken a glimpse into her eyes. They saw me. The person I was, not Dexter. The person I’d been in each life. Her eyes told a story of loves and lives past.
And even if
she
didn’t know me, her eyes did.
Ralph squeezed himself into the passenger side, and I chuckled when he looked over at me before pushing the seat back in annoyance.
“Don’t get all lovey dovey on me, dude,” Ralph started. “You just met the girl. Don’t know anything about her. Hell, you don’t even know that she knows your name.” He rolled down the window and turned up the music, bobbing his head and mumbling along here and there.
He wouldn’t understand. It was likely no one would, not even Noa. Because I had no plans to tell her anything about the Angel of Death. It was for the best.
I’d finally found her. Scratch that. I couldn’t even say I found her. I’d crashed into her and when her eyes looked at mine, I felt a zap of familiarity, like we’d shared a million laughs together. Fuzzy memories of what she would be like flashed through my mind. Memories…of what she would be like. It didn’t make any sense.
Chapter 9
I paced around my room, forgetting the stiffness in my knee. My cell phone was in my hand, and my finger hovered over Noa’s number. It had only been an hour or so since I’d first seen her.
Do I call her? Text her?
I opted for texting, thinking I could send a quick, nonchalant message asking her to dinner.
The quick text turned into fifteen minutes of me worrying about the tone of it and if she’d even respond to it. I switched words around; I talked to myself, all the while clutching my phone so I didn’t throw it against the wall. Finally, I sent something, anything. It was better than arguing with myself all night.
It’s Dex. Have you had dinner yet?
I waited. I turned on the television. I stared at the ceiling. A few minutes later, my phone pinged with an incoming message.
Nope. Waiting for you to make it up to me.
I chuckled.
Pick you up in an hour?
A minute later.
10 minutes. You took long enough.;)
I smiled. I didn’t even know her and I liked her. There wasn’t much pretense, so far. I could imagine her typing whatever came to mind, unlike me. She asked me where we’d be eating and I sent her the name of the only restaurant I could remember, having been there with Tracey a few days ago. Five minutes later she sent me her address, and I headed downstairs.
I found Tracey in the kitchen.
“Going out?” she asked, typing on her laptop at the kitchen island.
I hummed a response and sat down across from her. “I met someone.”
She looked over the screen at me, lowering it when she saw I was serious.
“Oh? What’s her name?”
“Her name is Noa. I’m taking her to dinner. I should be back in a few hours, and I promise to stay out of trouble and respect her. I have my phone, it’s fully charged, and my car has a full tank of gas.”
I stood and walked over to Tracey, patting the top of her head with a grin. She held onto my arm, running her hands over my skin soothingly. She was always worrying, always holding onto me like it might be the last time she saw me. The worry in her body made me sad, and it made her seem a lot older than she was.
“Have fun, Dex. Bring her by
Did it always feel like this? Was it always this clear when you met your match? I pondered the thought as I started the car. Yes, I had someone else on my side. Had he taken pity and brought her to me? Or had he simply given me the buzz that told me she was it? Most people looked for giant signs telling you when you found “the one” but it had only taken a glimpse into her eyes. They saw me. The person I was, not Dexter. The person I’d been in each life. Her eyes told a story of loves and lives past.
And even if
she
didn’t know me, her eyes did.
Ralph squeezed himself into the passenger side, and I chuckled when he looked over at me before pushing the seat back in annoyance.
“Don’t get all lovey dovey on me, dude,” Ralph started. “You just met the girl. Don’t know anything about her. Hell, you don’t even know that she knows your name.” He rolled down the window and turned up the music, bobbing his head and mumbling along here and there.
He wouldn’t understand. It was likely no one would, not even Noa. Because I had no plans to tell her anything about the Angel of Death. It was for the best.
I’d finally found her. Scratch that. I couldn’t even say I found her. I’d crashed into her and when her eyes looked at mine, I felt a zap of familiarity, like we’d shared a million laughs together. Fuzzy memories of what she would be like flashed through my mind. Memories…of what she would be like. It didn’t make any sense.
Chapter 9
I paced around my room, forgetting the stiffness in my knee. My cell phone was in my hand, and my finger hovered over Noa’s number. It had only been an hour or so since I’d first seen her.
Do I call her? Text her?
I opted for texting, thinking I could send a quick, nonchalant message asking her to dinner.
The quick text turned into fifteen minutes of me worrying about the tone of it and if she’d even respond to it. I switched words around; I talked to myself, all the while clutching my phone so I didn’t throw it against the wall. Finally, I sent something, anything. It was better than arguing with myself all night.
It’s Dex. Have you had dinner yet?
I waited. I turned on the television. I stared at the ceiling. A few minutes later, my phone pinged with an incoming message.
Nope. Waiting for you to make it up to me.
I chuckled.
Pick you up in an hour?
A minute later.
10 minutes. You took long enough.;)
I smiled. I didn’t even know her and I liked her. There wasn’t much pretense, so far. I could imagine her typing whatever came to mind, unlike me. She asked me where we’d be eating and I sent her the name of the only restaurant I could remember, having been there with Tracey a few days ago. Five minutes later she sent me her address, and I headed downstairs.
I found Tracey in the kitchen.
“Going out?” she asked, typing on her laptop at the kitchen island.
I hummed a response and sat down across from her. “I met someone.”
She looked over the screen at me, lowering it when she saw I was serious.
“Oh? What’s her name?”
“Her name is Noa. I’m taking her to dinner. I should be back in a few hours, and I promise to stay out of trouble and respect her. I have my phone, it’s fully charged, and my car has a full tank of gas.”
I stood and walked over to Tracey, patting the top of her head with a grin. She held onto my arm, running her hands over my skin soothingly. She was always worrying, always holding onto me like it might be the last time she saw me. The worry in her body made me sad, and it made her seem a lot older than she was.
“Have fun, Dex. Bring her by
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