Slings and Arrows

The small French bistro was their favorite brunch spot. It was the same as ever:: tables packed with young couples and families, the din of happy conversation reverberating off of the tin walls. An excess of heart-shaped decorations lined the walls and hung from the ceiling, a not so subtle nod to the holiday they were supposed to be celebrating.

Although everything seemed the same by all outward appearances, there was something different between them.

There seemed to be a force field around their cozy little corner table, one that was resistant to happiness and inane chatter, to the hand holding and gazing into one another's eyes that usually took place when they ate there. Instead, it encased Dani and Georgette in a bubble of tension that was growing more claustrophobic by the minute.

She took a sip of her tepid coffee, glaring at him while he busied himself with his iPhone and acted as if she wasn't there.

"Tell Obama I said hey," George said as she leaned forward over the small wooden table. Her smooth brown face was impassive when Noah looked up at her, but there was that glint in her dark eyes that had become too familiar over the past few months.

"What?" he asked, his cornflower blue eyes flashing behind his black-framed glasses.

"I figured you must be texting with someone important since you keep forgetting that you're not sitting here alone," she said nonchalantly, one hand gripping her coffee cup while the other reflexively pushed at her mane of long, tightly curled hair, forcing some of it behind the shell of her ear.

He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his dirty blond hair, a sigh escaping his lips.

"Can we not do this again, George? Or at least not now? I thought today was supposed to be fun."

George put her coffee cup down and shot him an exasperated look.

"Noah, we have to face the fact that something is wrong. Sometimes in relationships you have to talk about things, even if it's hard--"

Just then their waitress appeared, dropping the check onto the middle of the table. Both of their eyes flew to her, but the pretty brunette looked only at Noah when she said, "I hope you enjoyed your meal."

"It was great,' he said, smiling and putting his phone away.

"That's an awesome shirt by the way," the waitress said as she touched his shoulder unnecessarily, her hand lingering a few seconds too long.

"Thanks," George bit out as she stood and snatched her heavy winter jacket from the back of her seat. "I bought it for him from H&M. Maybe you can get your man one for Valentine's Day instead of feeling up on mine. "

She slid into her jacket and stormed out the front door, leaving Noah with the bill.

Noah apologized to the waitress as he paid and headed out, reluctant to get into yet another argument. Things had been so solid between them from the very beginning. They didn't have stupid arguments and they hardly ever bickered. But for the past few weeks there had been an unspoken tension between them. Everything he did seemed to bug George, and she generally looked down in dumps whenever they hung out.

He saw her talking to woman he didn't know on the corner. The woman handed her a cigarette and a lighter. George lit the cigarette and nodded her thanks as she handed the lighter back. When Noah reached her, she fell into step next to him, her hand jerky with agitation as she bought the cigarette to her lips.

"I thought you hadn't smoked in three years," he said quietly.

"It was a good run," she said exhaling, "but some things weren't meant to last."

Noah didn't respond. He looked straight ahead at the sidewalk that stretched in front of them, avoiding puddles of slush when he could.

"What is going on, Georgie? Why don't you just talk to me for once instead of getting mad?"

She tried to keep her voice even when she replied, but she could hear how tremulous it sounded.

"I get mad because when I try to talk to you, you don't listen. You ask me to just put my complete faith in you, but when it comes down to it you don't even want to bother having a real discussion. You don't want to put in the work, like this is a game to you or something."

Noah stopped and looked at her, a sneer marring his face. Worse than the sneer was the hurt George saw in his eyes. She wanted to hug him. She also wanted to push him. The whole situation seemed surreal to her, as if she was observing another couple arguing in the street.

"Is that what you really think? That this is a fucking game for me?" his voice was harsh with anger and it shocked her for a moment, but then she remembered that she was supposed to be mad at him and not the other way around.

"I don't know," she said cooly. "Why don't you ask your new best friend in the restaurant?"

"I don't believe this shit. Is this about jealousy?" he exclaimed. Noah had explained to her countless times that he wanted to be with her, and only her, and he couldn't understand why she kept pushing this issue.

"No Noah, this is about the fact that you can spot a black guy looking in our general direction from 50 paces and I'm supposed to feel bad about it, but whenever we go somewhere and some white chick is in your face pretending that I don't exist 'She's just being friendly.'"

"I think you're projecting just a bit--"

"I'm projecting?" George exclaimed, taking another furious puff of her cigarette and then threw it to the ground. She felt buzzed from the nicotine, and not in a pleasant way. She felt like she should yell at him, to get his attention any way she could, but her anger had already burnt out. Now she just felt tired and sad. She looked at Noah.

His hair hung down over his glasses and his lips were drawn tight. Even though he was angry, she knew he was already thinking about when she would acquiesce and he could get back to pretending nothing was wrong.

"I can't do this anymore," she said, not realizing it had been out loud until his eyes snapped to hers, wide and unreadable.

"George--" he reached for her hand.

"No." She backed away from him.

She knew if she felt his skin on hers then it would be over. She had to act now, while she was still strong.

"I'll...I'm gonna go.."

"Are you kidding me? Will I see you tonight at least?" he asked.

Her mouth opened and closed.

"Tonight? Right now I'm not sure about 'ever again'," she said.

She turned and jogged off, heading back toward her apartment.

Noah stood frozen in place for a moment as George's figure retreated into the distance. Fear surged through him and he longed to run after her, but anger masquerading under the guise of common sense stopped him.

Fuck this, he thought as he turned and stomped in the direction of his own apartment. Is it really worth dealing with all this craziness? She can come apologize to me if she wants to talk. I should have known from the beginning she'd be nothing but trouble...

*****

Spring, the year before

Noah couldn't help but notice her ass. He was minding his business, endorphins still running high from the soccer game his team had just won , and then there it was.

She was on all fours in the middle of the park. Wearing a short black skirt. Her underwear were blue with white stars, and as he closed the distance between them he realized they were Wonder Woman bottoms. She was reaching under a bush for something, unaware that her smooth thighs (he was somehow sure they were smooth) were attracting the attention of every guy within a one-block radius.

Just as he was about to pass her, some primitive part of his brain took control and redirected him. Before he knew it he was on the ground next to her. He had dropped his gym bag and was on his knees peering under the bush , too.

Her head snapped in his direction and he flashed her a grin.

"Nice undaroos," he said.

She sat back on her haunches and looked at him, unsure if he was a threat. Her small hands rested on her thighs.

Her skin was the color of toasted almonds. She wore a black shirt that showed a hint of her generous bosom. Her hair was unstraightened, and when she sat back it fluffed out around her face like a soft frame, focusing your attention on her big dark eyes and full lips.

"What are you doing?" she asked in the tone of someone who has limited patience and was trying to mete it out slowly.

"I'm seeing what the deal is with this bush," he said sitting up with a crooked grin on his face. "It's not burning, it's not singing, but it has you so interested that you're flashing half the borough."

"Oh!" she cried, pushing down at the back of her skirt, and then shrugging. "Too late for that I suppose."

"I'd say," he chuckled.

"Well, you owe me a dollar. This peep show isn't free."

She was back on all fours before he knew it, this time making a strange 'psst'ing noise. She looked up at him and Noah felt his heart skip a beat.

"There's a kitten under here," she said. "I saw him run under but he's backed up against that tree and won't come out. I would just crash through and grab him, but I don't want him to run off. Or have a kitty heart attack."

"Why don't you use your Lasso of Truth to pull him out?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes.

"Or," Noah rooted around in his duffel bag, pulled out a plastic bottle, and held it up to her. "This should do the trick," he said as he unscrewed the cap.

She sat back again

"Muscle Milk? Is that safe? Doesn't that have growth hormones or steroids or something in it?" she asked.

He held up one arm and patted his lean, but defined, biceps.

"Hey, I need those steroids more than this cat does, but I'm willing to share."

He poured a little of the drink into the palm of his hand and held it near the edge of the bush.

"Wait for it, wait for it...." he said quietly, his eyes squinting as he tried to see through the foliage.

A tiny calico bundle of fur and bones cautiously stuck it's head out from under the budding leaves. It's little nose twitched and then it trotted out and began lapping at his hand.

She flashed him a wide-eyed smile and and mimicked exited clapping so as not to scare the kitten, which had finished it's protein drink and was now gnawing at Noah's fingers. He lifted the cat gently into her waiting hands, proclaiming: "I present to you, the future Mr. or Ms. Kitty Universe and Governor of New York, Kitty Schwarzenegger!"

"Wow, you're my knight in shining ...shinguards," she said, tearing her eyes off of the kitten in her hands to give Noah a pleased look.

Noah grabbed a marker out of his bag and scribbled his name and number onto the Muscle Milk and handed it to her. She read it and smiled.

"The milk is for him; the number is for you--what's your name?"

"George."

"This has got to be worth at least one drink, right?" He flashed her what he thought was a confident smile, but he was quaking on the inside. He had only spoken to her for five minutes and he already felt panicked at the thought of never seeing her again.

She got to her feet and pulled a tote bag from her purse, delicately placing the kitten inside. She looked down at him, still on his knees in the dirt.

"Since you're cute, I'll round it up to two. Catch ya later, Noah."

She sauntered off without a look back at him . He followed her swaying hips and skirt all until she left his line of sight.

"George," he said to himself with a chuckle of relief.

*****

George didn't realize how hard she was stomping up the steps to her apartment until her landlord opened up the door and called up to her.

"Everything okay, Georgette? It sound like an elephant is following you up the stairs."

No, she wanted to cry out, everything is not alright. I just told my boyfriend it was over and he didn't even come after me.

"Everything's okay, Mrs. Panagakos. Sorry about the noise."

"No problem. I making some spanikopita, later I give you some to bring to Noah, okay?"

"Okay," George sighed.

As soon as she stepped into the house she scooped up Schwarz, who was running between her feet and meowing happily. She settled into the comfy old couch with her knees drawn up under her, absentmindedly stroking the cat's sleek fur. The strong vibration of his purr as she hugged him to her chest was comforting.

"At least I know that you care about me," she said. He nipped at her hand in answer.

She allowed herself a few minutes to wallow but refused to cry, choosing to expend that energy cleaning instead. Cleaning made her feel better; putting things to order in her apartment helped her declutter her mind as well.

The small one bedroom was pretty clean already. The bedroom had been cleared of all junk during her New Year's cleaning. She had organized her closets a couple of weekends ago when she stayed home instead of watching Noah's soccer game. He hadn't been happy about her missing the game, but she had needed some time to herself and didn't feel like putting on a fake smile and making chit chat with his teammates at the inevitable after game drinks.

Since there wasn't much of a mess, she contented herself with dusting and scrubbing, moving her heavy furniture out of the way to get at the areas she usually neglected.

As she pulled the refrigerator away from the wall, she wondered what Noah was doing and then stopped herself. He obviously didn't care what she was doing, and he hadn't for a while.

Over the last few weeks, it had seemed like he barely looked at her. When she gave tried to touch him affectionately or toussle his thick hair, he either pulled away or gave her an obligatory smile-and-pat before returning to whatever else interested him. And there was always something more interesting than her.

She finally worked the fridge far enough away from the wall that she could sweep behind it. It was dusty, but not too gross. There was really only a kitchen rag or something back there. She fished it out of the dust and unfurled it. A sudden shock of pain took her breath away as she realized what it was.

Not a dishrag. It was the shirt Noah had given her when she first slept over her house. She had kept it. She liked to wear it when he wasn't around, and occasionally made him wear it because she like having the scent of him on it. Sandalwood soap and sweat.

She hadn't seen it for months, not since...

*****

Late Summer, the year before

George looked at Noah as he sat on the couch, a beer in one hand and a pen in the other. He would occasionally jot something down into the notebook on his lap. He was shirtless, and his thin, muscled body kept distracting her.

She was supposed to be paying attention to the pasta nearing completion on the stove, but she couldn't help staring at him, this man who had become so vital to her. Everything about him made her heart leap. He was smart (so smart!) and strong and handsome. When he looked at her it made her feel like she was amazing, like a superhero or a rocket scientist, instead of a boring administrative assistant.

She stirred the noodles, fishing one out to test it. Still too hard. When she looked back at him, he had put the beer down on her coffee table and he was giving her that look--that look that made her feel like the alpha and the omega and inspired her to belt out Aretha Franklin songs in the shower.

No one had ever looked at her that way before, and it was just as scary as it was exhilarating. When he looked at her like that it made her feel like he knew her inside and out, and if that was true, then when the time came for him to leave her behind (it was inevitable wasn't it?) it would mean he was really leaving her. She turned away, suddenly somber.

"What's wrong , sweetie?" he asked as he made his way over to her.

"Nothing," she said, giving him a small smile.

"I feel kind of bad watching you barefoot and in the kitchen while I relax on the couch."

He was behind her now, his strong hands massaging her neck and shoulders. He dropped a kiss on top of her head.

"Even though you look really hot doing it."

He said this close to her ear, and a shudder of desire made Georgie grip the wooden spoon a little tighter.

"You must be crazy, I look like a mess today," she said with a smile in her voice.

Noah pulled her away from the stove, turning her to face him and then continuing to turn both of their bodies so that her back ended up against the wall opposite the stove.

"Did we do the waltz just now? It kind of felt like it. We should do a ballroom dancing class sometime, that would be fun, wouldn't it?"

She grasped his hands, ready to start an impromptu dance, but he didn't move.

He seemed to be studying her face, as if memorizing it. His eyes were a stormy dark blue, but peeking out from behind the lust was something bright and wonderful. Georgie felt her knees go week and thought 'Please let this last. I won't ask for anything else I swear."

"You are so fucking beautiful," Noah said then. "And so..." He shook his head, unable to find the words to finish his thought.

Instead he kissed her, his lips moving to hers so suddenly that it caught her off guard. Her passion matched his instantly and she rocked her body against his while his hands roamed frantically over her back. He hands gripped her by the ass, pulling her against him and she threw her arms around his neck. His words were muffled as his lips pressed to her mouth, her forehead, her nose, her eyes, but still he spoke them. When he finally pulled away, she understood them.

"I love you, George," he said.

Happiness and fear suffused her. She wanted to ask 'Why?' but said the first stupid thing that came to mind: the lyrics from a 50 Cent song.

"Like a fat kid love cake?" she blurted out.

His hands slid down, up, and under the t-shirt she wore, his eyes never leaving hers.

"No, smartass, like Noah loves George. I don't think it's analogous to anything else." He deftly slid the shirt up over her head and threw it behind him. She wasn't wearing anything underneath.

"Did I get it into the pasta pot?"

"I don't know," she whispered.

She leaned forward and kissed him slowly, nipping at his lip before pulling away. She let her fingernails trace lazy circles over the sensitive skin of his back, feeling his cock jump against her stomach in response.

"What was that you were saying?" she asked.

"I think I was saying how much I love George," he hissed as her hand snaked it's way down the front of his low-slung jeans. "George...Jefferson."

She squeezed him in her hand, loving the thick feel of him.

Noah removed her hand from his pants and pinned her arms to the wall with his. His knee slid between her thighs, the rough texture of his jean-clad leg creating a delicious frictions as she ground against his leg.

"And I love Noah" he mind blanked as pleasure spiraled low in her stomach. "Noah...'s Ark?"

"Silly," he whispered into her ear before kissing the sensitive spot he knew drove her wild...

*****

George sank to the ground, t-shirt clutched tightly in her fist. Fat tears spilled down her cheeks as the gravity of her situation sank in. Was it really over? All the fun and laughter and unadulterated love were really undone after one rough patch?

She thought of all the times something had bothered her, small things that she had kept to herself. Instead of talking about it, she had formed each annoyance into a brick that she used to wall up her heart and block Noah out.

Not because she didn't love him--she loved him more than anyone. And that's why it was so crucial to keep him out. If she really admitted how much she cared and then he spurned her, she couldn't bear it.

Every time she found a way to discredit his actions, it was easier to discredit his love. That way when he tired of her, cheated on her, fucked things up like every guy before him had, she could console herself with the fact that she had seen it coming. And she wouldn't have to be terrified of him leaving anymore because he would already be gone.