Chapter 70 Netflix and Chill
Eden's POV:
"I don't know."
It's an impossible question to answer. For one thing, I really can't believe that grandma knew about this. There's no way she'd just sit on this sort thing. She's so headstrong. She'd never have allowed someone in the company to do this. But the idea that she might not have only known about but perhaps been involved too, is beyond my level of comprehension.
Grandma wouldn't. I really don't think she would but I can't tell Noah that because as far as he knows I have no grounds for my belief in her character.
Instead, I try not to think of it. If grandma is involved - which I really don't believe she is - then I'll worry about that when I find the evidence to prove it. I wouldn't let myself be weighed down by the worst case scenario until we know for sure. Leaning into Noah's side, I rest my head in the crook of his shoulder.
He's talking but I'm not really listening. The sound of his voice is so calming and I can feel myself drifting off to sleep but when the buzzer goes, alerting us to the arrival of our pizza, I startle awake.
"Sleepy?" he asks, teasing me as he gets to his feet.
I don't bother to tell him just how tired I feel. It's pointless. He already knows. I watch as he answers the door, seemingly feeling perfectly at home in my apartment. Stretching, I grab us a couple of plates from the kitchen and a set of cutlery. He'll probably laugh at me but I've never been able to eat pizza without cutlery.
My friends in school used to say I was too posh for my own good but that wasn't it. It's not like grandma eats pizza with a knife and fork, only me. I've never been a fan of getting my hands dirty and nothing is worse than greasy fingers.
"Should we watch a movie?" he asks as he opens up the pizza box.
Nodding my head, I grab the TV remote. I can't be bothered to scroll through looking for something to watch so I offer it to him as I plate us both up a couple of slices of pizza.
"What sort of films do you like?" he asks. It's a reminder that there's still so much we don't know about each other.
"Anything funny," I tell him as I offer him his plate.
His eyes land on the knife and fork I got for myself and his expression brightens.
"You use cutlery to eat pizza?" His tone is incredulous.
I don't really understand why it always comes as such a surprise to people. Everyone has weird eating traits and I don't make a habit of pointing them out to them, but everyone always says something about my use of cutlery.
"Er... yeah." I don't tell him that I also use cutlery when I eat burgers or paninis. I'm pretty sure he'd find it entertaining but I'm too tired to not get bent out of shape over being teased.
"Okay. No judgement here," he says, taking my hand again.
"I can't eat if you're holding my hand," I tell him, silently cursing myself for needing to use cutlery.
He drops my hand, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me back into his side as he continues to search for something for us to watch.
"You don't put ice cubes in cereal too, do you?" he teases.
"No," I reply. "Does anyone actually do that?"
"Apparently," he says with a shrug.
"Dip french fries in ice cream?"
"Gross! No!"
"That's alright then," he tells me, dropping a kiss on my temple.
I'm not much help with picking the film. I'm too focused on being so close to him. It's amazing how he's so good at improving my mood. With everything that's been going on, it's surprising that I'm able to sit here and enjoy myself but he makes it so easy. We spend the next hour or so laughing together, enjoying each other's company and all the stress we've been dealing with goes momentarily forgotten.
When the movie ends, I don't want him to leave. I would happily sit here all night.
Neither of us say anything. We don't turn off the television or move away from each other. I look up at him from where I'm currently curled into his side. Our eyes meet and he smiles down at me.
"I should go," he says reluctantly but he doesn't move.
I want to tell him not to, that I want him to stay but I don't. I just tighten my hold on him instead. He chuckles, pulling me tighter into his side. We sit there like that for longer than we probably should, both needing to get up early for work in the morning.
When we do move, Noah takes the pizza box and places it in my recycling bin. It always surprises me that he likes to tidy up after himself, rarely leaving before my apartment is back to how it was before he arrived.
Then he's pulling me into his arms, kissing me softly before wishing me goodnight.
I open my mouth to tell him to text me when he arrives home but I hesitate. We still haven't put a name to whatever it is we're doing and I don't want to rush things.
"I'll see you in the morning," he says, kissing me one more time before leaving.
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